


I Followed Him

by Cassidae



Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Roleswap, Sammy Disappears Instead of Jack, Spoilers, balance of humor and spooky shit, jack and ben are Bros but also argumentative children, rated for uncensored swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-05-28 11:36:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 42,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15048053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassidae/pseuds/Cassidae
Summary: “Sometimes… I wonder, if the shoe were on the other foot… if whatever it was that grabbed him had grabbed me instead, I wonder how far Jack would’ve went to save me. And I know that he would’ve brought me back. No matter where, or what had taken me.” -Sammy Stevens, Episode  68[ AU where Sammy is trapped in the Void instead of Jack, and Jack goes to King Falls to rescue him as well as host the show. Things are similar, but not quite the same. ]





	1. a polite small town

**Author's Note:**

> **_Huge_** thanks to [Scarlet-Letter-Mistakes/OdeToFalling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OdeToFalling/pseuds/Scarlet-Letter-Mistakes) for brainstorming this with me and being my biggest cheerleader and the best test-reader. Not only did they tune me into KFAM in the first place but without them I never would've gotten the courage to write this, much less post it.
> 
> That said, happy hiatus! Hope this helps tide you over until Phase 2. The first few chapters are already written, so I'll post those every 10 days.

On the night of King Falls AM’s debut, it’s hard to say who’s more nervous; Ben, or Jack.

It’s not like Jack’s never been behind a mic before, far from it. He had hosted a few hours at his college’s radio station and there were plenty of times he had been a guest on Shotgun Saturday Nights.

But behind-the-scenes is where he’s always thrived. Soundboards and schedules are his bread and butter, and that skill set had nicely rounded out their trio. Jack, adept at technology and sweet-talking guests and studios; Lily, the cunning writer and ruthless interviewer; and Sammy… a great voice, personable, witty, and usually level-headed, he's almost the perfect radio personality.

Nowadays, the three of them couldn’t be farther apart.

Still, the only open position at King Falls Radio was for a host. So, a host he will be.

That doesn’t mean he’s confident enough to go at it alone.

Meeting Ben goes by in a blink but Jack takes an instant liking to him. The kid is nervous and a little star-struck from talking with someone from “big city radio”, but he’s incredibly earnest. His ambition to be one of the greats of journalism reminds him of Lily, albeit with way more naivety. Not to mention that he doesn’t look like he could hurt a fly.

As the time approaches, Jack forces himself to sit down and let the other producer do the setup. At some point during this, he manages to talk Ben into turning the second mic on. He says something about helping him get his footing and easing the town into it with someone more familiar on the air. Ben’s jitters are enough for him to be easily swayed.

Ben counts down going live and Jack does his best to slip into performance mode. He tries to channel the feeling he has when bantering with Sammy, the ease of talking with someone into empty air until the air talks back. But he should probably use at least 80% less cursing, if the way Ben’s finger casually rests over the bleeper button is anything to go by.

The on-air light shudders to life and the words pour out of Jack’s mouth easier than he expects.

“Good evening, King Falls. I’m Jack Wright and you’re listening to King Falls AM, 660 on the dial.” It’s a new intro and new numbers to get used to, but with that out of the way, Jack just needs to - talk. “Believe it or not, I just moved in bright and early today and now I’m sitting here with you at two in the morning. But I still don’t think I’m running on as much caffeine as my producer here.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Ben asks, voice high and defensive. He’s also definitely not looking at the station mug sitting on his side of the desk that Jack’s seen him refill at least twice in less than an hour. Jack eyes it pointedly, but of course this doesn’t communicate through the audio.

“Call it a lucky guess, but let’s just say I know your type,” Jack replies. He relaxes a bit with the knowledge that he won't be left out in the cold for his first broadcast. He had been a little scared that the kid would chicken out and sit there the whole time flipping switches. “Ladies and gents and everyone else, this here is the coffee junkie himself, my producer Benjamin Arnold.”

“You… You really don’t have to do this,” Ben mumbles, eyeing the mic like it might bite him.

“We’re already live; the damage is done,” Jack says gently. He watches for signs of acute anxiety, but things don’t seem that bad so far. It seems to be just shyness, but Jack’s more than prepared to put on the brakes should he have to.

“I-I just don’t want to ruin the journalistic integrity of myself, is all,” Ben says. Jack has to hold back a laugh.

“My advice is that the experience is more important than the principle of the thing - it’s all about putting yourself out there,” Jack says. Falling back on his reputation points seems to do the trick. Ben nods after only a second of consideration.

A pause follows that makes them dangerously close to being dead air already. Jack skips back a few steps. “Well, like I was saying, I’m brand new in town and barely know what to do with myself,” He says, as if he hadn’t dedicated the last few months of his life to obsessive research. “The shops look sweet and the tourist spots seem fun, but I’m more than open to insider tips from the residents! We’ll open up the phone lines in just a minute to you listeners so you can give me some real advice outside of what I can find on City Hall’s webpage.”

“Dude, I don’t think they’ve updated the coding on that since, like, 2007,” Ben snorts. Jack takes his word for it, seeing as how city government hadn’t exactly been high up on his research list. “The ‘Best Small Town In America’ banner looks straight out of WordArt, honestly.”

“Potential copyright infringement of that statement aside, ‘Best Small Town’, you say?” Jack prompts.

Ben winces for a moment but perks up again almost immediately. “Yep! We’ve been voted ‘Best Small Town in America’ six years straight by the King Falls Chamber of Commerce.”

Jack takes a second to run that statement through his head again, but he doesn’t think he heard wrong. “So… you voted _yourselves_ ‘Best Small Town In America’? Multiple times?”

“Well, not the citizens, obviously that’d be biased,” Ben replies and Jack can actually feel his brow furrowing deeper. “But we’re still super proud of it. There’s a parade down Main Street and a ribbon cutting by the mayor himself! Six. Years. Running.”

He looks confident and proud for once, so Jack decides to let it slide. “Right… Um, well, that sounds festive,” Jack says, trying for an upbeat tone.

“It is! Last year I even sat right next to Mayor Grisham,” Ben says, then adopts a wistful, almost dreamy expression. “I could see that velvety blue ribbon being cut…”

“...Cool,” Jack says, suddenly out of words. He’s about to awkwardly transition back to opening up the phones when he remembers what happened on his way over.

“Oh! Ben, I’m sorry to break this to you but you’re actually not the first person I met in town,” He says, watching the other man raise his eyebrows expectantly. “That honor goes to Deputy Kriegshauser, who helped me out when I got turned around trying to drive up the mountain.” Jack had been running late (at least, late by his standards) and couldn’t have been more grateful to the man.

“Yep, that sounds like Troy,” Ben says with a smile, “Where’d you get lost, anyway? There’s only so many roads in this town, though maybe you big city folk get confused with all the bends.”

Ignoring the jab, Jack decides to take a leap of faith and voice his honest thoughts. He just hopes Ben won't laugh. “I was in Sweetser Forest, so it makes me think that it might’ve been General Abilene playing tricks on me. Although, I didn’t notice any signs that could’ve been turned around like the legend says is his M-O.”

To his relief, Ben’s reply is as earnest as ever. “Oh wow, really? That sure sounds like him, but that’s definitely a new one. What a way to welcome you to town!” He says with a grin, one which Jack gladly returns.

“Well, you’ve heard my story about my weird welcome wagon, now let’s hear yours. Hit us up at 424-279-3858,” Jack says, reaching for the button to open up the lines at the same time Ben does. Jack leans back to let him, and within moments they have an array of blinking lights.

“Oh, look who it is!” Ben says, punching a button before Jack can actually look, “Line 6, you’re live!”

“Well, howdy y’all!” The Deputy’s unmistakable drawl makes Jack smile.

“Deputy Kriegshauser! So nice to talk to you again,” He greets warmly.

“Now, now, you can just call me Troy, okay? I feel like I know you well enough after watching you chase tail in the forest for damn near twenty minutes,” He says with a laugh in his voice. At this, Ben looks more amused than ever while Jack feels confused.

“Twenty? You sure you wound your watch this morning? I swear it wasn’t more than a few minutes…” He didn’t remember reading about time dilation being one of the aparation’s abilities - he’d have to update his notes.

“Sure as the sunrise,” Troy says, and Jack can only feel a little embarrassed because of how gentle his voice is, “I felt like I had a front-row seat to the King Falls 500. Finally had to intervene or we’d all be listening to ol’ Chet blow that horn for another couple hours. You gotta watch out for the general! He’s sneakier than a honey badger in a beehive!”

“I’ll definitely keep that in mind, Troy-” 

“Ah hell, I think I just saw one of the William’s boys just ding dong ditch ol’ Ms. Baker. I gotta go, boys,” He tells them, and they hear a couple muffled curses while Troy tries to hang up that Ben quickly censors. He really does have a fast trigger finger.

“With that, it’s time for our scheduled break. Keep those calls coming! We’ll get back to you after a word from our sponsors,” Ben says, hitting the button to run whatever’s in the queue.

Jack listens to the ad with half an ear as he takes a moment to enjoy how unbelievably _well_ this is going, considering that one of them hasn’t hosted on his own in years and the other has never hosted at all. He’s plenty happy to let the locals poke fun at him if it lets him keep this job and investigate the town.

His fingers itch for a pen, but he pushes the urge aside. He’ll have time to interrogate Ben on town folklore later. Maybe he knows a place for breakfast or something.

He jumps in half a second before the music finishes fading out. “Welcome back to King Falls AM, you’re tuned in with us at 660 on the dial. I’m here reaching out for advice from you listeners about what a noob like me should know about your wonderful little town. Dial in at 424-279-3858, or tweet us @KingFallsAM.’”

Ben snorts. “Noob?”

“What?” Jack asks innocently, “I feel like it’s appropriate.”

“We’ve got Finn on Line 7,” Ben says, and Jack falls into his role to welcome him to the show.

They proceed to have an almost one-sided conversation with the excitable truck driver, who’s not even a resident. Things only get interesting after Ben hastily bleeps Finn’s sudden exclamation.

“Finn? You okay there?” Jack asks.

At least they can count on the reply to be immediate. “I’m dandy, but I just saw the biggest light show hullabaloo I ever seen! Looks like that Captain EO laser light show at the Disney!”

“What, like lightning?” Ben asks, looking as confused as Jack feels.

“Hardly! More like one of them fire shows on the Fourth O’ July!”

“Or maybe it’s something like the Brown Mountain Lights?” Jack suggests, but Finn doesn’t seem to hear him.

“It’s still going! The night looks like the day!”

Jack’s already halfway out of his seat. “I’ve got to check this out,” He says, hastily slipping his headphones off and running for the door.

Bright lights aren’t anything close to shadows, but like hell is Jack going to miss this.

He makes it outside and - _shit that **is** bright._ He blinks to adjust his eyes from the stark lighting of the station to stare at the distant sky.

It does actually look like some kind of crazy light show. Every color imaginable dances in his vision in a nebulous cloud of brightness that hangs over the trees. It’s like a cluster of stars is shining through an iridescent bubble.

Jack doesn’t know how long he stares until he realizes that he’s not going to get answers just standing there gaping. He runs back in as quick as he left.

He’s still rubbing the spots from his vision as he takes his seat across from Ben again. He interrupts some conversation that he only hears Ben’s floundering half of before putting his headphones back on. “Okay, yeah, that’s not lightning or swamp gas or whatever - I have no idea _what_ that is, but it’s just like Finn said!” He says, heart suddenly pounding with all kinds of things, like excitement and a bit of fear.

“Um, we have a caller for, uh, you, Jack. I think? It’s Line 2.” Ben says, looking a little helpless.

“Is this about the lights? Do you know what they are or what they’re doing?” Jack leans into his mic, muscles tense.

“Oh! Oh, it’s you!” Comes the completely unhelpful reply, “I wasn’t sure at first but now I’m super sure. I’ve definitely, like, heard you somewhere before on some other show or something. Whatever it was, it was really great!”

Jack quickly understands Ben’s pained expression. This guy sounds more than a little tipsy and he’s in no mood to talk to anyone who doesn’t have information.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been doing radio for a while. Doesn’t surprise me. But I’m really not looking for any lost fanboys right now, so I’m going to have to let you go,” He says, finger hovering over the dump button.

“You don’t have to be so _mean_ about it,” The guy whines, then seems to get a sudden burst of inspiration. “Wait wait wait, I think I know now! You were on a lot with Sh-”

Jack hangs up and opens up a random line, ignoring Ben’s curious look as he does so. “Line 1, you’re live with Kings Fall AM. Do you have a good perspective on the lights?”

“Oh! Uh, yeah, I guess I do. I’m seeing them bright and clear. I’m heading home from work out on route 72 and I’m-I’m looking right at the ‘em,” The caller replies, shaky but clear.

“What’s your name, man?” Ben asks in a more subdued voice.

“Oh, sorry, uh, Tim. Tim Jensen,” Tim answers, “But the - the lights, they’re-they’re right out on top of the old mill down off Clower Street. It looks like you’re looking into like, three different suns.”

“Three?” Ben repeats, shooting a questioning look at Jack, who gives a tense shake of his head. They were too far away from the station to make out much.

“You’re our eyes, Tim. What’s happening?” Jack presses.

“Well, there are these, uh, rainbow lights? I-I don’t know what you’d call ‘em. They’re coming from these three triangle shaped thingies.”

“UFOs?” Ben and Jack ask in unison.

“Hey, hey! I did not say the U word, I said Triangle. Shaped. Thingies.”

“W-w-what’re the triangles doing, Tim?” Ben asks, face a little pale.

“They’re just hovering I’d say maybe two or three stories up off the ground. They’ve moved on past the mill now… Wait, hold on a second, I think they’re moving closer to the road.”

A heavy ball of dread drops into Jack’s stomach, breaking through his excited haze. He’s not sure if the noise he’s hearing is the blood roaring in his ears, or - “Be careful, especially if they’re getting closer. I think you should pull over or even turn around.”

Tim doesn’t seem to hear him. “The hell is that thing doing? It just turned the other direction, and-and-and crossed the road. Couple hundred yards ahead. I’m gonna slow down.”

“Tim, please be careful!” Ben interjects, eyes wide and anxious in a familiar way. At this point, Jack’s attention is split in half, but Tim grabs it fully with his next words.

“It just stopped! Right above the road! Wait wait, the lights just changed direction again! It’s definitely heading this way!”

“Turn around, now!” Jack yells, clenching his fists. As if he can keep someone else out of danger by will alone.

“Oh hell, they’re coming fast! Guys!”

“Get out of there, Tim!” Ben nearly shouts.

“They’re-they’re right above me! I-I can’t see! The lights! _No! NO-”_ The word stretches into an incomprehensible scream of terror - then cuts to a dial tone.

The air stays dead for nearly a minute before Ben breaks it by fumbling with his personal phone. “Shit shit shit, I’ve gotta call Troy.”

He doesn’t censor himself, but neither of them is of the mind to do that. Jack listens to him fumble through the call while barely feeling like he’s in his own body.

This town is in more trouble than he had thought.

Suddenly, he has a lot more to worry about.

********

It’s Ben’s idea to visit Mary Jensen.

He calls Jack around noon to suggest it, explaining that Tim has a wife and kids in town that would appreciate the support. Also, they have to submit the tape for evidence before the end of the day, and he thinks she deserves to hear it in person.

It hadn’t crossed Jack’s mind at all that Tim could’ve left people behind, too. He hasn’t thought of anyone else since he left work, breakfast interrogation forgotten. He’s poured over his notes enough times in the past few hours to have them burned into the backs of his eyelids again, searching for any connection at all between the lights and the shadowy voidspace that had nearly engulfed him.

_~~But it didn’t take him, instead it took-~~ _

He had filled out nearly three pages with his limited knowledge about the lights _(appearance, number, behavior, apparent abilities-)_ and increasingly wild theories on them _(alien ships, sentient rock beings, potential weapons against the Void-)_. His body had tried to shut down after spending more than twenty-four hours awake _(he could’ve gone much longer, **before** -)_ but the moment he started to doze he had Sammy’s screams ringing in his ears in place of Tim’s.

_~~He doesn’t even know if it was violent or painful, no proof or clear memory of anything at all **except-**~~ _

Jack agrees to go because he’s scared he’s going to slip again if he doesn’t walk away from this for a little while. And because visiting someone who’s grieving is the polite, small town thing to do and he’s here trying to insert himself into their polite, small town lives.

He’s not prepared for the way he almost breaks when the screen door opens.

Looking at her, Jack can imagine the strong woman she is most days. He can almost see the woman that the town has known and loved long enough to give her what’s at least a week's worth of casseroles from what he can see over her shoulder.

But today isn’t most days. Right now, she just looks tired.

Jack stands silently as Ben introduces him and explains why they’re here. He nods when his name is said but isn’t sure if she really sees him. But her eyes do focus on the tape the moment it’s mentioned, gaze lost and fearful. She pulls a bit of strength from somewhere deep down and agrees, quietly inviting them in.

“Joan’s taken the kids for the day,” She explains, filling the silence as she leads them to the living area. “Which is - it’s probably for the best, seeing as how I’m just barely holding myself together as it is. They don’t - didn’t quite understand when I told them their daddy was gone, but honestly I really don’t either.”

“I could always come over and watch them for an afternoon if you need it,” Ben offers with a gentle smile. “I never see them enough anyway - I think they grow at least two inches between every time I do.”

Mary doesn’t exactly smile at that, but for a moment she looks much less sad. “Thank you. I really appreciate it, Ben.”

They all sit down, Ben and Mary on either end of the couch with Jack in the armchair next to her. Ben places the player on the coffee table and shows her how to start and pause it.

Jack and Ben wait for her to be ready, trying not to stare too obtrusively. But Mary still has eyes only for the tape. She lifts her hands to her face and scrubs it roughly as if trying to stop the tears before they come. Then, she squares her shoulders and presses play.

Ben had set it to start after the first ad. The three of them listen to Finn prattle on until he mentions the lights. Jack listens to his own increasingly forceful voice laden with the fear and guilt that only he can hear.

When it gets to the part where the triangles begin moving closer, Mary stops it. They sit in silence for a couple minutes before she can bring herself to start it again. From there it’s over very quickly.

Jack closes his eyes when Tim screams, but he doesn’t hear him at all.

He opens them when he hears the tape click to a stop. Ben has a hand still hovering over the table while the other gently squeezes Mary’s shoulder. She’s shaking.

While Mary is lost in her grief and Ben offers his support, Jack’s hand drifts up to his chest without conscious thought. He presses his palm through his shirt to feel the ring hanging on the chain underneath. The metal is always warm against his skin, but sometimes, like now, it _burns._

For a horrible moment, he is envious of her. For having this proof, for having witnesses to the unexplainable, for having nearly an entire town by her side.

All Jack has is a story about his near-insanity, documented in his own hand, and a missing depressed and anxious ~~fiancé~~ roommate. And a couple cops to tell him that they’ll put a watch out at the morgue.

The emotion leaves with his next breath so that he’s left with only a deep empathy that weighs him down like a sack of rocks. He hasn’t breathed a word this entire visit, but he _needs_ to say - something. To explain that she isn’t the only one missing the love of their life to forces beyond their control and isn’t alone in feeling the unending pain and worry of it.

He can’t use those exact words, but he’ll convey it. Somehow. He has to try.

He lowers his hand and slowly reaches out to touch Mary’s arm. It’s barely a light tap to get her attention, but she turns to face him immediately. Her face is somehow dry, though her eyes are red from the effort.

Part of Jack hopes she’ll understand how much he _gets it_ from the emotion in his eyes. But Mary’s gaze is only confused as she looks helplessly at this silent stranger that came into her home on what’s very possibly the worst day of her life.

Surrendering to the use of words, he manages to say “Mary, I-” before his voice dies. A moment stretches into an eternity for Jack alone as he summons his courage.

Then, he says the words he told Lily before he left and the words he tells himself every day. “He’s still out there, somewhere. He’s alive and you _will_ get him back. You don’t have to understand to believe.”

He’s not prepared for the way she pulls him to her and hugs the breath from his lungs.

She releases him a second later, letting him drop back into his seat. Then she smiles at him, just a bit. It feels like a victory. “Thank you, Jack. I-I needed someone to give me a little faith.”

He nods and smiles back as best he can, happy to have done something for her, however small. Lily had never understood the purpose of blind faith when you have the determination to _make_ it true instead. But those things are not mutually exclusive, and sometimes you need one to have the other.

But he can’t imagine Mary with a notebook like his, obsessing over possible solutions long into the night. Not with her life, not with the kids. He himself can’t put aside his search to take up hers. But she doesn’t need him to do that and he knows she wouldn’t ask him to.

He can do _this,_ though. At the very least, it’s the polite thing to do.


	2. a piece of advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The grand re-opening of the King Falls Public Library is in a few short days, and there's a very special guest in studio to tell us all about it! But what is _really_ going on with the library? (Okay seriously, that place is super creepy.)
> 
> Featuring a bad feeling and reminders, both friendly and not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, I told you the chapters would get longer! :D
> 
> This chapter covers episode 2 "That Book is Overdue, President Lincoln" and features **_amazing_** art by the amazing [Scarlet-Letter-Mistakes/OdeToFalling,](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OdeToFalling/pseuds/Scarlet-Letter-Mistakes) AKA the wonderful Night whom I couldn't do this fic without.
> 
> Enjoy!

It’s been two weeks and Jack’s investigation has made no progress.

He hadn’t expected, or even dared to hope, that something this monstrous could be found out quickly. He isn’t disheartened, but he is tired and frustrated.

Thankfully, he has at least four hours with Ben each night to help keep him sane.

“Hello and good evening, you’re listening to King Falls AM, that’s 660 on the dial. I’m Jack Wright and I’m sitting here with my producer slash co-host, Ben Arnold,” Jack says, grinning behind his hand. Ben is _still_ pouting over the intro, and it’s been over a week since he made it a regular thing.

“You’re really not giving up on this co-host thing, are you?” He asks, arms cross and hunched in a way that looks uncomfortable. Maybe he could use some tips from their doctor guest later.

“Nope! I’m afraid you’re stuck with me,” Jack replies, fixing him with a smug grin. If he has to do a show without Sammy, he’s more than happy to do it with him. Ben half-heartedly flips him off.

“Now, just before this, you all heard Mayor Grisham speaking out about the recent disappearance of Tim Jensen,” He adds somberly. “If you, or anyone you know, have any information on Tim’s disappearance we urge you to reach out to the King Falls Sheriff Department.” Jack hopes that the police will be more helpful for Mary, but he honestly doesn’t know.

“On a lighter note, we’ve got a big show for you tonight,” Ben picks up right after him, seamlessly moving them forward. He looks at the schedule to begin reading it, but his head suddenly shoots up and he sends a glare at Jack. “Speaking of which, if you’re naming me co-host, then you’re now co-producer.”

“What? Why?! You’re the one working the soundboard right now.” He waves a hand in his general direction to emphasize the point.

“Yes,” Ben concedes, “But the schedule is covered with _your_ post-it notes - again!” He pointedly waves said schedule in the air, which is in fact generously marked up by Jack. “But it’s not like I’m annoyed or anything - they’re really helpful when I can actually read them. Plus, you’re always more than happy to edit commercials and work with me on the equipment.”

“That’s just being nice! I only wanted to lend a hand,” Jack protests weakly, embarrassed by the callout. When he decided to switch roles, he hadn’t realized how much he can’t stand not being involved until he forced his way in anyway. At least Ben doesn’t seem to feel like Jack’s stepping on his toes.

“Well, besides being nice, you’re also super competent and organized. So, you’ve got the job.” Ben’s expression dares him to argue. “This show is officially our co-child and you’ve gotta deal with that.”

That makes Jack laugh. “Alright, alright!” He holds his hands up in surrender. “Now, go ahead and read our _co-schedule_ before we really start running behind.”

Ben grins and happily does so. “Well, later in the hour we’ll have a call from a Dr. Raúl with some health tips. But first up is an interview with-” Here, his face shifts into a grimace, “new Head Librarian, Emily Potter. She’ll be telling us about the re-opening of the King Falls Library in a few days.” By the end of the sentence, he’s basically grumbling.

“...Not a book lover, Ben?” Jack asks lightly, not sure what caused the shift in mood. 

Ben snorts and shakes his head derisively. “Forgive me for not being excited about meeting the new leader of the town book shack’s regime.”

“Seriously, what’s your problem?” Jack snaps, a little upset on behalf of a woman neither of them have met. “You’ll have to fill me in on what’s got you so worked up.”

“Well, the _last_ Head Librarian was Mrs. Kilpatrick, who got her scholarship in _war-town Nazi Germany,_ if that tells you anything,” Ben says. “Can I just say, for the record, that Mrs. Kilpatrick used to place the ‘learn-to-draw’ books in the reference section? If anything, they were self-help books. And if a kid wants to check one out and learn how to draw Droopy the damn dog, then maybe they should let him!”

“Alright, yeah, that’s kinda questionable, but-”

“And another thing!” Ben seems to have entered the stage of his rant where he won’t listen to anyone else. “I haven’t told this to anyone, _ever,_ but when I was a kid, I was walking down the aisles, and I saw that old whisper-Nazi put ‘Mein Kampf’ in the children’s section, and she-”

 _”Okay!_ We’re overdue for a commercial break, so we’ll be right back folks.” He cuts him off, rolling the queue before Ben can pick up any more steam.

“Dude, you do realize you just said that on live radio, right?” Jack asks, stopping any complaints Ben may have about getting dumped. 

His ‘big city cred’ has become less effective as time goes on and Ben learns to take him less seriously, but every now and then he still tries. “The first rule of serious journalism,” He says, raising his pointer finger, “is don’t go spouting biased opinions until you have all the facts. Like, say, waiting to meet the new librarian in person instead of just assuming she’s a Nazi clone.”

Ben just mumbles “whatever” and keeps pouting. Seriously, it’s like he’s five years old sometimes.

...God, his inner voice is starting to sound like Sammy.

There’s a soft knock on the door and Jack calls for the person to come in, guessing it’s the Emily Potter that they’re waiting for. She closes the door quietly behind her as she enters, gracing them with a friendly smile. She’s a bit younger than Jack, so at the very least she’s not one of the original Nazis. That should be a point for Ben. When he turns to look at his co-host/co-producer for his reaction, it takes everything he has not to burst out laughing.

The guy is _gobsmacked._ The phrase ‘sucker-punched in the heart’ comes to mind. He barely manages to wave in reply to Emily’s as she takes her seat between them.

“Welcome back, folks,” Jack says as the music fades out, “And thanks for tuning into King Falls AM. In the studio with us this evening is Miss Emily Potter, who’s here to talk about the library’s grand re-opening later this week. Good evening, Miss Potter. It’s great to have you in the studio tonight!”

“Great to be here! And please, call me Emily,” She says brightly. The girl absolutely _exudes_ sweetness, and Ben seems intoxicated by it.

“Stunning…” He murmurs to no one but himself.

Jack is absolutely sure his unprofessional amusement has seeped into his voice, but he’s absolutely sure that he does not care. “Of course, Emily! Not to put you on the spot, but have you been listening to the show?”

“Yes, every night!” Emily replies. “I know you guys haven’t been going long, but I’m a big fan of the Jack and Ben Show!”

“Glad the name’s catching on.” Jack pauses to hear Ben’s soft “Beautiful…” before continuing. “And so you know that I’m new here in town. Mind catching me up on why the town’s library was closed down in the first place?”

“I don’t mind at all! King Falls Library was closed due to renovation. It’s an older building, you see, built back in 1912, so it was a little overdue.”

“Is that a librarian joke?” Jack asks, which earns him a laugh. This seems to physically blow Ben back into his seat, still gaping.

“Gorgeous…” He murmurs again. Jack finally takes pity on him and nudges his foot under the desk.

“Hey, buddy, you’re going to catch flies like that.” He pokes him one more time for good measure. Ben starts, blinking out of his daze.

“What? No no, I’m fine, don’t mind me,” He says hastily, brain scrambling to come back online. “Um, uh… old building, you were saying?”

“Yeah,” Emily says, and Jack’s surprised Ben doesn’t fall out of his chair when she turns her smile directly at him. “It was built by Francois Swindle and was the largest-”

“Largest brick and mortar structure in King Falls until 1918, when City Hall was built,” Ben finishes eagerly.

“Oh my gosh, you are exactly right, Ben! So smart,” She praises. Ben’s smile gets impossibly dopier. “And it’s because of its materials that it survived the burning of the top floor at all,” She adds, and _that_ gets Jack’s attention.

“Wait, what?” He frowns at her. “Like, as in someone purposefully set it on fire? Or was it a crazy accident?”

“Well, the investigation is still ongoing, but signs point to it being intentional,” Emily says. “Sheriff Gunderson and Deputy Troy have been hard at work solving this mystery these last few months, but between that and the disappearance of Mrs. Kilpatrick-”

Jack wants very, very badly to believe in the simplest explanation for those two things coinciding, but his chest clenches at the word ‘disappearance'. “Sorry, sorry,” He reluctantly interrupts, “But are missing people following mysterious events a… normal thing, in King Falls?”

“Too soon, Jack.” Ben gives disapproving shake of his head. Jack clenches his teeth and doesn’t reply. Ben clears his throat and turns his full attention back on their guest. “G-go on, Emily. I’m sure the listeners would really appreciate you shedding some light on these subjects.”

“Well, for weeks leading up to the fire, Mrs. Kilpatrick had been having… visions,” She begins.

“Visions?” Jack repeats, frowning in thought. What does that mean in this context? Another term for an apparition? Visual manifestations of precognitive abilities or historical projections? Dreams or nightmares that boggle the mind? How abstract and frequent were the appearances, or did they vary?

“Yes,” Emily answers, unaware of Jack’s racing thoughts, “To the point where upper management had been talking about retirement. I don’t know if we should be talking about this, what with the investigation ongoing and all…” She trails off, glancing nervously between them.

“Please-” Jack starts, trying not to sound desperate but this is the first thing he’s heard of that’s anywhere close to a lead and he can’t let even a secondhand account slip by.

Ben bulldozes over him, leaning forward in his chair, arm positioned like he wants to reach out and take Emily’s hand for comfort. “Maybe it could help, Emily. Your words, your magnificent words, could be our best- last chance at saving… _dear_ Mrs. Kilpatrick.”

Emily gives him a warm smile and nods. “You’re right, Benny.”

Jack is barely aware enough to notice the way she and Ben are already locked in their own little world right next to him. It would be ridiculously cute if Jack wasn’t so focused on getting answers. As it is, he’ll reminisce later.

“The vision she had was by the checkout desk,” She continues, “At first it was a shadowy figure carrying a book. Upon closer inspection, she realized it was President Lincoln, who she believed was trying to check out a book.”

Jack had been ready to vibrate out of his seat at the mention of a ‘shadowy figure’ but… that isn’t exactly what he was expecting. “President… She saw the sixteenth president of the United States? In the library?” He repeats, dismayed at the lack of clear connection. But, part of him is still interested in the mystery nonetheless.

Emily nods while Ben grins. “What was he checking out? ‘Twelve Years a Slave’?” He quips.

“I couldn’t say even if I wanted to… privacy and all,” Emily says. Ben immediately looks crestfallen and awkwardly glances away.

“Didn’t realize the dead got patron privileges,” Jack mutters while his mind is still somewhere else. Was it a true apparition, or a replay of the past that manifested for the librarian? Could it actually be Lincoln, or just a being masquerading as him? Or-?

“Please continue, E-Emily.” Ben says, recovering with a tentative smile.

“So, she watched from afar, quietly putting away the periodicals. Then, she felt a wind rush past her to the ledge. That’s when she saw a vision of John Wilkes-Booth, peering over the ledge, watching as he waited for a librarian that never came.”

“Fascinating,” Ben breathes. Jack isn’t completely sure if he’s more interested in the ghostly tale or the storyteller herself.

“Honestly, I was hesitant to believe in the visions at first. But, as I’m sure as Ben can attest, Mrs. Kilpatrick wasn’t one to-”

“If she said she saw it, she saw it,” Ben confirms.

“How does this connect to the fire?” Jack wonders out loud. He decides to take this account at her word, for now, since he has no reason not to. “Does it have anything to do with the animosity between Lincoln and Booth?”

“Maybe…” Emily shrugs. “Lincoln and Booth did, in fact, have frequent arguments. Or, so Mrs. Kilpatrick said when she complained to upper management. You see, she actually lived in a small apartment in the library-”

“And they were keeping her up at night?” Ben cuts in. Emily confirms with a nod. “Well, with all due respect, that crazy hag _absolutely_ would have tried to burn the place down once she got fed up with that.”

“Well…I’m not sure…” Emily looks doubtful and seems to lose her courage. “Ah, God, we shouldn’t even talk about this with the investigation and all.”

“That’s fine,” Jack says gently, although he’s still insanely curious. “We can go ahead and open up the phone lines now and talk about the library’s reopening.”

“O-or maybe you’ve seen the visions in the library as well,” Ben adds. “We-we’d love to hear about that.”

“That too,” Jack agrees. “You’ve heard our story, now let’s hear yours. 424-279-3858.”

“Or you can tweet us @KingFallsAM. Line 12! Ah…” Ben pauses and shrugs before patching the caller in. “Wouldn’t give a name.”

“You’re live on King Falls AM,” Jack tells them.

“Yeah, I’ve got a question for Emily.”

“Hi!” She says. The look on Ben’s face says he thinks she’s absolutely adorable, even if it’s something as simple as getting excited over having a caller talk to her.

“So let’s say that… my friend checked out a book last year, and due to the fire and the closing, wasn’t able to return it on time. Are overdue charges being forgiven?”

“If you couldn’t return it due to our renovation, I’m sure we can overlook it.”

“Cool!”

“Thanks for the question,” Jack says, reaching for the dump button.

“Wait! Uh, I’ve got another question for Emily!”

Emily sits to attention. “Oh! Okay.”

“Are you seeing anybod-” The line abruptly cuts off. Jack and Emily both turn to Ben, who’s already selecting another line.

“Next caller! Uh, we’ve got Line 4, Cynthia.”

“Welcome to the show, Cynthia,” Jack greets, hiding an amused smile behind his hand. But it disappears as soon as he hears the caller’s tone of voice. Flashbacks to retail work flicker through his mind like a horror film.

“From what I gathered on this interview, as well as the news report that Channel 13 ran-”

Ben scoffs. “You shouldn’t trust them, Cynthia.”

“Excuse me, Ben! Excuse me!” A pause to ensure she has their silence. “From what I’m _gathering,_ the library, if you wanna call it that, is a despot of desolation! Arson, check. ‘Fifty Shades of Grey,’ check. Presidential assassins, _check!”_

Jack greatly admires Emily’s patient tone when she speaks. “Cynthia, I believe-”

“What are you, twelve? And you’re running the show?” She interrupts. “Could we at least get an adult to watch over that den of depravity?”

Jack grits his teeth and tries to stay calm. “Cynthia, absolutely none of that is Emily’s fault, as I’m sure you well know. At least wait to visit the renovated library before you decide it’s being mismanaged.”

“Yeah, wait until you have all the facts,” Ben says, voice just short of vehement as he defends the librarian. “I’m sure Emily will do a great job! She’s the perfect person to lead the library through this new chapter in its history. Ah, d-did you see what I did there, Emily?” He adds, pulling a 180 in his attitude to smile at her.

“You’re so funny,” Emily laughs with a sunny smile.

“Oh my god! Hose those two down, Jack. It’s _unbearable.”_

Personally, he would argue that it’s very sweet and whatever budding connection they have makes for much better radio than Cynthia treating them like the complaint department for a place that’s not even open yet.

But he’s gotta play the moderator sometimes. “Cynthia, did you have an actual question about the library?” Jack sighs.

“Yes. My boys are ten and six. Does the revamped library have a kids corner?”

“It most certainly does.”

“Are you overseeing it?”

“Yes, I am.”

Cynthia scoffs and promptly hangs up on them.

“Let’s try Line 14, Jack.”

He takes a deep breath. “Good evening, you’re on King Falls AM.”

“I saw the president,” The caller says. He’s not sure how a voice _sounds_ rickety and dusty, but this one does. 

“Oh! Another sighting!” Ben exclaims.

“When did this happen, ma'am?” Jack asks.

“I saw him!” She says more forcefully.

“...Mrs. Kilpatrick?” Emily pipes up uncertainty.

There’s a dial tone, then a beat of silence.

“One more before commercial?” Ben suggests hopefully. Jack nods his assent. “We’ve got Greg on Line 1.”

“Greg, what’s your question?” Jack hopes against hope that it’s a reasonable caller.

“Yes, this is a question for Emily. If a man, such as my friend, wanted to court you, w-”

This time, Jack dumps him before Ben can. Both of them shoot surprised looks at him, but Jack shakes his head silently. “Friendly reminder, folks, that we will not tolerate callers harassing our guests here on King Falls AM. And also, that approaching someone by dialing into a radio station at two AM is lame as hell.” He’s proud that he manages to keep an even tone throughout. Greg was pretty harmless right then, sure, but two calls like that within minutes of each other set off warning bells in his head that he trusts himself enough to listen to. Hopefully, the guy would get the message and leave her, and them, in peace.

“Emily, thank you for being here tonight and letting us know what’s going on with the library,” Jack shoots her a smile that’s part apologetic.

“Oh, it was my pleasure,” She says kindly. “I just want all listeners to know that, although we can’t wish the visions away, they, more than likely, will stay away from us in crowds. So, please come join me for the reopening ceremonies this Thursday at ten AM.”

“I will be there,” Ben says immediately. 

“You’re a sweetheart, Benny.” And, yep, Jack can see the final arrow hit his heart. “Thanks for having me on, guys!” With that, she stands up and exits the studio.

“Any time, Emily!” Ben calls, right after the door shuts.

“... She’s gone, Benny.”

_“Ben.”_

He waves off his glare like it’s a pesky bug. “Hey, it’s fine! I mean, she’s a pretty girl, and it definitely seems like she likes you…”

“You think so?” Ben asks a little too quickly. A pause, then he clears his throat. “Uh, I mean, I guess you could say we… kinda hit it off? She, uh, I mean, I think we can be, like, friends? Maybe?”

“I’m rooting for you, bro.” Jack grins as Ben turns a wonderful shade of red.

“Alright,” He continues, “Now, after a quick message from our sponsors, we’re gonna be back and talking with Dr. Raúl. He’s a local chiropractor who will be telling us how to keep our backs on the straight and narrow - not my jam, but I’m sure it will be for others out there.”

Finally, Ben seems to snap out of his Emily-induced stupor. “Wait, what do you mean by that?”

“Um,” Jack fumbles, “Nothing, really, just a bad experience once upon a time. But I promise I won’t hold it against the good doctor. Let’s just go to commercial.”

********

That Thursday, Jack arrives at the library at a quarter to ten.

There’s already a decent sized crowd gathered at the front entrance and Jack lets himself melt into it. His eyes scan unfamiliar faces, one hand tightly clutching the strap of his shoulder bag. He’s here for the ceremonies, of course, but like hell is he passing up an opportunity for research.

After the show, Ben had declared that he was going home for a power nap before the reopening. Maybe Jack should’ve done the same, but instead he spent those few hours in between finalizing his materials. These include a list of books that are potentially helpful but he hadn’t been able to find more than a few excerpts of, notes from the references in books he _had_ found, and a vague timeline of possibly-related town events reported online that he hopes the archives will shed more light on.

And, of course, the notebook.

Out of nowhere, a hand grips his shoulder. He jumps out of its hold, swinging around with a wildly beating heart to see -

Mary. It’s just Mary Jensen, eyes wide and concerned.

Jack lets out his breath and gives her a tentative smile. “A-ah, hey, Mary! Sorry, I’m… not great in crowds,” He says, not quite a lie.

_~~Nightmare-memories of grasping hands and crushing darkness, a laugh, **a scream -**~~ _

… It’s more like he’s paranoid about things disappearing when he’s not looking.

Mary smiles, soft and motherly, in a way that somehow puts him at ease. “No worries, Jack.” She pauses and makes a show of looking down at the ground around him. “Hey now, where’s Ben?”

Jack laughs even though he feels bad about it, considering that he’s not _that_ much shorter than him. “We arrived separately, so I don’t really know. Although…” He smiles and lowers his voice, “If I had to guess, it’d be wherever Miss Potter is.”

“I’d bet on you being right,” Mary says with a grin. “He sounded head-over-tuckus that night! She must really be somethin’.”

“Ben certainly thinks so,” He agrees. The tense, bowstring feeling he had been carrying is almost gone now. “You heard the show, then?”

“Yeah… I listen whenever I can’t sleep.” Jack looks at the dark circles under her eyes that she hadn’t bothered covering up and hopes she doesn’t mean _every_ night.

He wants to ask if she has nightmares about him, too. But he can’t, so he doesn’t.

“Are the kids here?” He asks instead, still having no idea what they look like.

“Casey’s with them up front - c’mon, you should join us.” She reaches out her hand, though not touching him this time.

“Alright,” He agrees, offering the arm that isn’t holding the bag. She grabs it and begins pulling him through the crowd, which parts for her like water.

“Woo! You’ve got some meat on you,” She comments, giving his bicep an appreciative squeeze. She laughs when his face heats up. “Maybe I should be giving you a call for when I need some heavy lifting done around the house.”

“You should, if you need it.” She raises an eyebrow, looking at him to make sure he’s serious. He nods several times. “Really, I’d be happy to help.”

Her face immediately softens again. “I’ll be holding you to that,” She promises.

They stop once they’ve reached the front steps and she shoves her phone into his hands. He quickly adds himself as a contact, glad that maybe he can be of use to someone.

Mary introduces him to her kids as “The man who’s on the radio with Ben” and they wave shyly at him. Jack hopes that they don’t actually listen to the show, given their hours, but maybe Ben just talks about him when he babysits.

Speaking of, Jack finally spots him. He’s standing on one side of the steps, talking with (surprise, surprise) Emily. She’s laughing at something he said and Jack wonders if his face is just going to be stuck with that dopey grin. It probably will be, at least while he’s in Emily-proximity.

This close, Jack has to crane his head to fully take in the building. It’s dark and intimidating, and no amount of power washing is going to remove the century-old grit from its bricks. There are very few windows, two close together on each floor that are nestled under oddly-shaped eves. The effect gives Jack the strange feeling of being glared down at by some kind of looming beast.

The most curious thing about it, though, is the pair of statues sitting on the stair walls. They are not lions. In fact, it takes a minute for Jack to figure out _what_ they are.

They are hunched, winged figures, but are clearly not gorgons. The wings are feathered instead of bare skin, for one. He’d say they look like vultures if it weren’t for the heads. Their ends are shaped more like snouts than beaks, with two fangs poking past the lip. More noticeable than that are the antlers that crown their heads, many-branched and sharp. A pair of hooved legs sprout not far from where the wings meet the shoulders, while the lower half rests on talons.

 _‘Preytons,’_ Jack realizes, finally placing the odd creatures. It’s just like King Falls to pick something mythological to guard its library, but even he couldn’t have guessed this.

There’s also the fact that they are almost disturbingly detailed. Jack is torn between stepping away and moving closer.

He ends up doing neither as right then is when the ceremonies start. A grey-haired woman in a dark suit steps forward from a line of equally grey-haired people in suits, who Jack assumes to all be the upper management. Most of them have the astute-but-slightly-unkempt look of college professors dragging themselves to an early morning class, especially the balding gentleman in pinstripes. His glasses are slightly askew and the buttons on his shirt are misaligned. The man to his immediate left has to nudge him to attention as the woman takes the mic.

“Good morning, King Falls! Thank you all so much for coming to the grand reopening of the King Falls Public Library.” She says, garnering scattered cheers. 

Jack glances to the side just in time to catch Emily hurriedly shoving Ben down the steps and back into the crowd. She then tries to sneak upstairs as unobtrusively as possible. She's only partially successful, if the glares a couple of the suits send her is anything to go by. When she does make it up there, she looks absurdly out of place among them, far too young and energetic. But she smooths the front of her dress and stands tall and proud at her place beside them.

Ben appears at his side, still smiling and a little pink. “Hey there, tiger,” Jack teases, keeping his voice low as the manager continues her speech. They should really be paying better attention if they hope to report on this tonight, but he can’t resist. Especially when Ben’s face turns fully red like that.

“Shut up!” He hisses. “We were just… talking.”

“Uh huh…” He looks back to the steps and Emily catches his eye, giving him a small wave. Jack returns it and sees Ben doing the same, albeit with a much more ridiculous smile.

“Her dress looks nice,” He comments, watching Ben out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, she does look nice,” Ben agrees with an absent nod. Jack muffles a laugh behind his hand and gets an elbow in the ribs for his trouble. They’re shushed by someone from behind and quickly settle down.

It’s at this point that the woman in the suit steps away from the mic and a younger woman steps forward. Her hair is in a tight bun and she holds a clipboard in her manicured hands. She doesn’t smile, or has any discernible expression really.

“Mayor Grisham sends his regards to all gathered here today and his congratulations on the finished renovations,” She says in a perfectly neutral tone. “Education is one of his highest priorities for this town and he is thrilled to have this resource returned to us. As always, he is keeping in close contact with the Sheriff's Office in regards to the fire that disrupted its operation. He places his high hopes and expectations with the new Head Librarian, Miss Potter, and wishes her the best of luck in filling the shoes of Mrs. Kilpatrick.”

Finished, she leans away from the mic and stands there in silence for several seconds. Then she turns a pointed look over her shoulder at Emily, who mouths a little “Oh” and quickly moves to her side.

“Thank you, Riley,” Emily says, voice suddenly amplified by the mic. “Please give my sincerest thanks to Mayor Grisham, as well.”

Riley nods stiffly, pivots on her heel, and makes her way quickly down the stairs. She disappears toward the parking lot, apparently having somewhere better to be.

“And thank _you,_ King Falls!” Emily adds after an awkward silence. “I hope to do right by you as well as this establishment. Please feel free to speak with me if you at any time have questions or concerns. And… with… that…” She trails off, glancing at upper management as if asking for permission. The woman who spoke earlier nods her approval, and Emily’s smile grows as she turns back to the crowd. “And with that, we will now open the doors and welcome you all in!”

At that, the crowd claps and cheers. But no one is louder than Ben, who is yelling and whistling directly into Jack’s ear. Emily gives a little curtsey before switching the mic off and moving the stand to the side. She gestures for everyone to start climbing the stairs and Jack has to move quickly to stay with Ben, who immediately darts to the front of the surge.

Jack may superstitiously hold his breath as he passes between the preytons, but no one has to know.

The inside is no less dark or creepy than the outside, but Jack can see the spots where Emily’s tried to brighten it up. For example, there are several colorful bean bags arranged off to one side and a table with a hand-painted sign that says “New Reads!” set up next to the front desk which has several books propped up on it. Other than that, it’s rows and rows of bookshelves made of dark wood, barely lit by the low-level lamps and wall sconces. The natural light from the windows doesn’t appear to penetrate far, instead being swallowed by the dusty darkness. The deep red carpet under their shoes seems freshly cleaned, likely to get rid of the remnants of smoke and ash that had drifted from upstairs.

The stale gloom is quickly filled with life and noise, much more than a library would typically allow. But today’s a day for celebration, so a little rowdiness can be tolerated.

Jack and Ben station themselves next to the front desk while the crowd that was behind them disperses. They watch as Emily flutters around like a butterfly in a garden, happily introducing herself and answering questions. She hugs Mary when they meet, saying something in a low voice that makes the older woman smile and nod.

“I really do think she’s going to do great here,” Ben says after a few minutes. Jack looks over at him, but his eyes haven’t left the librarian.

“I think she already is,” Jack replies. Ben chuckles and nods in agreement.

Eventually, Emily makes her way over to them, beaming and more than a little pleased. “Hey, Jack! It’s so great to see that you made it, too.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Jack says earnestly. “I’m actually kind of an avid researcher, so I’ll probably be spending a lot of time here anyway,” He admits, patting his bag for emphasis.

“Oh, that’s interesting! What sorts of things do you research?”

“What Jack’s saying is that he’s a nerd who’s old-fashioned and won’t just use the internet like the rest of us,” Ben says, saving him from having to answer.

“Hey, I can use a computer just fine, thank you very much.” Jack crosses his arms over his chest, defensive.

“Using your email doesn’t count,” Ben states, making Emily giggle behind her hand. He shoots a smile at her and Jack tries not to gag. Seriously, this is only the second time they’ve met.

‘Love at first sight’ had never been his thing. For him, it was more like ‘slowly fall in love with your best friend then spend years angst-pining because you assumed he was straight’.

… He can be at least a little happy for Ben, though.

“Well, I’m leading a group upstairs to show them around the new floor.” Emily clasps her hands in front of her, looking expectantly between the two of them. “Would either of you like to come with?”

“Yes!”

“Sure.”

Jack and Ben look at each other and laugh over their synchronicity. Emily smiles fondly at them both.

“This way, Jack, Benny,” She says, gesturing for them to follow as she heads toward the staircase, where a cluster of people is gathered. Jack rolls his eyes at ‘Benny’, but begins to walk with them.

He means to follow them, he really does, but gets distracted when he spots a table of bulky machines between the rows, pushed back along a far wall. He glances at Emily and Ben, but they’re in their own little bubble again and seem to have already forgotten him. They keep walking forward and Jack takes the opportunity to duck into the shelves.

The low noise from the main area fades away as he walks until there are only his footsteps, and even those are muffled by the carpet. It’s near silence until he finally reaches the machines.

“Oh my god, they actually still have these?” He murmurs, staring at the row of microfilm readers. Each one stands about two feet tall where they rest on one long, low desk. The screens look like they belong to clunky computers from the 90s but with buttons and knobs along the bottom of the frame. Directly underneath is a setup where the miniature film rolls are placed, along with a zooming scope placed over a glass tray.

Just to check, Jack flips the switch to power the nearest one up. The light actually turns on and the blank display comes to life without issue. It begins to whir softly, filling the air with its own white noise.

He doesn’t know whether to laugh or to cry at the outdatedness of it all, but honestly, he’ll take what he can get. It’s not like he expected the King Falls Public Library to be fully digitized, but this is still kind of a low.

At least this way he can go through with his plans to look at the archives of the town’s old newspapers. Unusual deaths and disappearances are mainly what he’s searching for, and he doesn’t think he’ll find a shortage of either from around here.

Several rows of metal cabinets stand just to the side for storing the microfilm reels. Jack pulls out the timeline from his bag and begins scanning the neatly penned labels for the right dates and documents. He only allows himself to pull out a few to start out with, for convenience's sake when he puts them away. He’s not about to create more work for Emily, or any other librarian for that matter.

From then on, time passes… oddly. Jack gets lost in the motions of placing the reel, focusing, zooming, scrolling, and repeating. He only looks away from the bright screen to add details to the timeline, sometimes crossing things out entirely, or to get up and get new reels. More pages are slowly added, but he doesn’t remember getting them out. Every now and then he changes which shoulder the bag rests on, but never puts it down for a moment.

His world is black and white and blurry lines that move in and out of focus, whirs and clicks and a soft mechanical hum. His hands become ink-stained and at one point he gets a papercut on his thumb that he only notices just before he gets blood on the reel.

Typeset and grainy photos scroll past his eyes; dates, names, incidents. A disease outbreak that resulted in a quarantine at the mall in 1982. A serial killer that targeted only people with glasses during the 1960s. A little girl who disappeared from her street only to reappear in defiled pieces in 1957. A missing boy that returned five years later without aging a day in 1915. Some cases are solved, others cold, all at least a little inexplicable because of either circumstance or degree of horror.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been when he straightens up from grabbing a box from a low drawer and is struck by a wave of dizziness. He grips the cabinet for support, rapidly blinking the creeping blackness from his vision.

When he looks up again he has to blink a few more times and glance around to assure himself that he’s not still staring at the projection screen. Realizing that he is not, in fact, holding his face two inches from the monitor means that this is a bit of a worrying situation.

The figure who _is_ holding its face two inches from the monitor is black and white just like all the other images he’s been looking at. But this one is moving. In fact, it’s scratching its beard. It wears a long overcoat as if it had just come in from a brisk walk outside. It’s so tall that even sitting in Jack’s chair it has to bend down slightly to use the machine.

It notices him staring and turns to look at him. A warm smile stretches over its craggy face. Jack blinks and now the figure is standing in front of him, as if he has been there all along. The only sign of movement is the cold wind that ruffles Jack for a moment but does not seem to touch the figure.

Jack finds himself staring up at a vision of Abraham Lincoln. He drops the box with the microfilm in it. It clatters to the ground between them. Neither of them so much as glance at it.

“Young man, I believe you’ve found yourself on a path that is mighty troublesome,” Lincoln says. His voice is somewhere between disapproving and amused, as if he finds whatever Jack is doing foolish but potentially fun to watch.

Jack, understandably, had not anticipated meeting what appears to be a dead President. Even after hearing of his existence in the library, he had expected it to be specific to Mrs. Kilpatrick in some way. So he thinks he’s allowed to just stand there silently for a moment as he gathers his thoughts.

“I have to do this,” is what he ends up saying, once he finds his voice.

“Are you quite sure of yourself?” The vision asks, raising a bushy eyebrow at him.

“Yes.” Jack’s hands curl into fists at his sides, his natural response to being doubted. Especially when it’s this important.

Lincoln sighs, his gaze heavy and sad. He places his left hand on Jack’s shoulder and he feels something light and cool press down through his shirt. Lincoln takes a moment to search his face for… something. Jack doesn’t know if he finds it.

“You best check yourself, before you wreck yourself,” Lincoln says solemnly. He then dissipates like so much smoke, leaving only empty space behind.

Jack blinks twice and stares at the dusty air where the vision had been. Slowly and silently, afraid that one wrong move might wake him from this dream, he sits back down in front of the machine. His foot kicks the dropped box as he passes it.

Lincoln had scrolled back to the article about the dead girl from 1957. The picture showed a flat-roofed house, her home, since the body had been too graphic for print. Jack takes out the notebook and starts a new page, writing “Nancy Fletcher” in large letters, underlining twice. He hits the print button on the machine and leans back in his chair.

“What the fuck?” He whispers to himself.

That’s how Ben finds him what feels like mere seconds later, though Jack honestly has no clue.

“There you are!” He practically shouts, making Jack nearly jump out of his skin. “I thought you left hours ago! I was just about to leave when I saw your car still in the lot.”

“Hours?” Jack repeats, though he can easily believe it. Back… before, Sammy would shake him out of his stupor and nearly five hours would have gone by in the time it took him to blink.

“Yeah, hours! What are you even…” Ben trails off, looking at Jack with concern. “Uh.. you okay, dude? You, um… you don’t look so good.”

Jack laughs, the sound slightly hysterical, doing nothing to soothe Ben’s worry. He looks between the monitor and Jack, not understanding what could be so funny.

“Let me guess,” Jack says once he gets himself under control, “I look like I’ve seen a ghost?”

“Apparition,” Ben corrects automatically, then it seems to click and he slowly looks at Jack with wide eyes. “Wait… you don’t mean-?”

“A vision of Abraham Lincoln appeared and offered me advice,” Jack confirms. He stands up and walks to the end of the table where the printer had finished. He places the paper in one of his folders and tucks it securely in his bag, not yet daring to wonder where this may lead.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Ben unknowingly echoes Jack’s own reaction. “Uh, are you… gonna follow it? His advice, I mean?” He asks after a moment, a little more energized.

Jack only shrugs. “No, but I think he meant well.” He bends down to finally pick up the box to put it back in its place. He’s definitely done for today. He puts the reel with the Fletcher article away and shuts down the machine, all the while feeling like a marionette on strings.

When he finishes, he turns to find Ben grinning. “Dude, we’ve gotta tell Emily! And you’ll have to talk about it on the show - this is _huge!”_

“He told me, and I quote, ‘check yourself before you wreck yourself’,” Jack deadpans.

Ben seems to wait for the ‘just kidding!’, but when it doesn’t come he doubles over laughing. That’s how Emily finds them moments later, Ben guffawing and Jack with a dead look on his face. It takes them a while to explain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not gonna lie, I'm _really_ proud of the Lincoln scene and hope I at least got a chuckle out of someone. If you laughed, please tell me in the comments! (Or tell me that it was stupid, that works too.) If you're worried about Jack (as you should be), tell me that too! I love talking to readers.
> 
> Next update will be July 15th!


	3. an omission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the 55th Annual Bass Tournament and there’s more than enough excitement to go around. In the whirlwind that happens before and after, Jack befriends some and antagonizes others, but is left with more questions than answers.
> 
> Featuring actual children Jack and Ben, and things that are left unsaid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CW:** mentions of death, non-graphic descriptions of death
> 
> ... The chapters just keep getting longer. Oops? This one clocks in at 9k!
> 
> This chapter covers episode 3 "Catch & Release", and wouldn't be possible without the wonderful [Night](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OdeToFalling/pseuds/Scarlet-Letter-Mistakes), who is always cheering me on and inspiring me to write more!

“It’s like you think I won’t do it.”

“I _don’t_ think you’ll do it, that’s my point!”

“Watch me.” Jack smirks, then vaults himself over the table. He ignores Ben’s indignant squawk as he jogs toward the weird food truck that everyone has conspicuously been avoiding.

“W-well, that was Jack jumping out from behind our booth,” Jack hears Ben’s fading voice say as he moves across the grounds. “He’s actually heading to the truck. Folks, I know I did this, but I still don’t know if I can watch.”

He doesn’t want to leave Ben hanging for long, so he orders the first thing on the menu that catches his eye. “One ‘Briny Burger’, please and thanks,” He says to the woman behind the window. He gives her the money and shoots a grin over his shoulder to Ben, who’s still looking at him with wide eyes.

The food is ready in no time at all. Jack grabs it and runs back over to the King Falls AM booth, ignoring the looks he’s managed to garner from some of the crowd. He makes another leap back over to Ben’s side without even spilling the basket.

“I’m back, folks! Miss me?” He says, cutting off whatever Ben was saying about the weather.

“Jack has officially become the weird food truck’s first customer of the day,” Ben informs the listeners. “And he’s returned with something… green? And… sour-smelling.” He wrinkles his nose, then grins up at Jack. “Are you seriously about to eat that thing?”

“Jack Wright does _not_ back down from a dare,” He says proudly. “I will eat this… burger, and _you_ will eat your words.”

Ben laughs at him, earning them more stares from the tournament-goers. “Go ahead and prove me wrong, dude. I’m going to get an ambulance on the line.” He makes a show of pulling out his phone, dialing 911 into the keypad, and letting his thumb hover over the call button.

Jack sticks his tongue out at him like the mature man he is, then takes a bite before he can get another good whiff of it. He chews quickly and just barely manages to swallow. One down, he looks Ben in the eye as he bites into it again.

“I honestly think I’ve just sent a man to his death,” Ben says, watching in disbelief.

Jack manages to down half of it before he has to tap out, leaning as far away from Ben and the mics as he can to hurl into the bushes. He hears Ben dying of laughter behind him, so at least his aren’t the only sounds on the airwaves.

After he’s expelled the entirety of his stomach, Jack collapses into his chair and glares at his co-host. It softens a little when Ben hands him a napkin to wipe his mouth with. He does so and puts it in the basket with what’s left of the burger, pushing it as far as he can to the side to throw away later. This puts it in front of Ben, who pushes it even farther away.

“I really, really tried to warn you, man,” Ben says, grinning like a lunatic. Jack rolls his eyes and flips him off.

“Shut up. I did it, didn’t I? Got down half of that thing before it decided to crawl back up,” He grumbles, pausing to take a long drink of water. Ben just laughs at him again.

Suddenly, a shadow falls over their table. Jack looks up, and up, at the giant of a man who’s approached them. His face is thunderous, and it’s all Jack can do to lower the bottle and swallow the last of his drink in one loud gulp.

“Which one of you dumbasses ate from the damn food truck and made us listen to you ralph it up on the radio?” He asks in a gravelly voice.

Jack raises his hand without further prompting. After all, he’s already stared death in the face once today. He’s never had much shame to begin with. “That’d be me. Sorry you had to hear that, but I think I’d need medical attention otherwise.”

“Ron! You’re right on time,” Ben greets, gesturing for him to come around the table. “Jack, King Falls, this is Ron Begley of Begley’s Bait & Tackle, sponsor of this years 55th Annual Bass Tournament. He’s responsible for this wonderful outing today!”

“Watch your words, Ben.” Ron’s face darkens even more as takes the empty seat to Jack’s right. “There’s no outing here, just a gathering.”

 _‘Yeah, having that happen right after I barf wouldn’t be the best way to go about it,’_ Jack thinks to himself, but then his thoughts stutter to a stop. He turns his head slowly and raises an eyebrow at Ron.

Ron mirrors his look, unimpressed. “What, you got a fucking problem with me telling you two to watch your fucking language?” Luckily, Ben, as always, is quick with the bleeper. “Words hurt and I’m not about to let either of you misappropriate my community. I’m the only soul brave enough in this town to own my gay identity and I’m going to stand up for myself.” 

“Ron, Ron! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any harm!” Ben fumbles while Jack gapes like one of the fish from the lake. He can’t believe his ears, but also can’t stop his mouth from moving on its own.

“Well, you’ll just have to _bear_ with us and watch your _colorful_ language,” Jack finds himself saying, but makes sure to turn away from Ben when he grins up at Ron. “We’re family-friendly, after all.” He barely resists adding a wink.

Ben tugs his elbow urgently, probably afraid of him getting his ass beat into the dirt. Ron glares at him for a long moment as if he actually will. Then, the man bursts into a full-belly laugh.

“You’ve got me there, Jack.” He says, grinning at him like they’re old friends. Something in Jack lightens, a weight that had seemed small compared to everything else but feels like such a relief to have gone. Ron continues, addressing them both now. “That’s fair enough. I was just jerking your chain anyway. But, seriously, you’ve gotta be careful about doing stupid stuff while you’re live on the air,” He adds with a pointed look.

“Of course,” Ben says at the same time Jack says “No promises”. Ben glares at him. Jack shrugs. “What? I can’t turn down a dare and call me crazy but I get the feeling that you can’t either. Might as well be honest.”

Ron laughs uproariously again, clapping Jack on the shoulder. It’s a hit with weight behind it, but it doesn’t manage to knock him over. “I like you boys! But if that’s true, you’re probably gonna need someone to keep you on the… straight and narrow.” Jack knows he’s not imagining that Ron looks at him for a beat longer than Ben.

Jack coughs into his fist, embarrassed to realize his slip-up from a few weeks ago had not gone unnoticed. Ben laughs next to him, just as oblivious as the first time.

“I think we’ll handle ourselves just fine, big guy,” Ben says. “Now, care to describe the festivities for us? Maybe you can lure a few more people to Lake Hatchenhaw before Mayor Grisham fires the starting pistol. Ah - see what I did there?” He adds, nudging Jack.

“Sure, Ben, that was a good one.” Jack rolls his eyes but still smiles.

“You want something that’ll put some asses in the seats? I’ll give you somethin’ and this one’s for free,” Ron grins. “Today we got the fishing tournament, we got the bouncy house for the kiddies, we got that weird food truck that shows up to all King Falls events that no one ever eats at except for the brave and stupid.”

Ben laughs at his expense again. Jack shoots a finger gun at Ron and says “No regrets!”

 _“And?”_ Ben prompts after a pause.

“And you know where I’m going, Ben. Just last week out by the sunken pontoon boats - we had a sighting!”

“By the boats? That is _so_ close!”

Jack frowns, confused by their excitement until he suddenly has an idea. “Wait, you don’t mean the Lake Hatchenhaw Monster?”

“We sure do! She’s been a busy one.”

“I’ll say! That’s, what, the fifth sighting this _year?”_

“Fifth this year,” Ron confirms. “Since I took over this shop from my dad I don’t know that we ever got Kingsy more than twice a year.”

“Well, you heard it here ladies and gents and everyone else,” Jack says with a grin. “Between Kingsy, the tournament, the bouncy house, and the weird food truck for those braver souls out there, there’s something for everyone down here at the lake.”

“Now, about the tournament, Ron,” Ben cuts in. “How about you tell us what’s on the line here? Let the lovely folks know what everyone out here is really fishing for.”

“Same as every year! Brand new bass boat with all the fixin’s and a five hundred dollar check from the King Falls Chamber of Commerce.”

“That sounds amazing! Well, I wish all the participants the best of luck out there today,” Jack says. 

“I’d love to be out on that lake today.” Ben sighs wistfully. “Nothing like it…”

“I’d probably just get in everyone’s way, but I certainly wouldn’t say no to seeing Kingsy,” Jack muses. He almost feels like a local, using that cutesy nickname. “It was nice meeting you, Ron. Thanks for talking with us today.” He shoots the man a quiet smile that he hopes is understood.

From the look on Ron’s face, it feels like it is. “Anytime. Jack. Ben.” He nods goodbye, then stands and takes his leave.

Jack watches him go, then sits back in his chair and takes a moment to really process that interaction. Ron is just… _out,_ and he says it on the radio and doesn’t take shit about it and can freely make jokes all while running his business and living his life. Granted, he had said that no one else was ‘brave enough’ to be out in King Falls, but if people like Ben know and don’t mind, then –

He focuses again when fingers snap in front of his face. “Jack? Hey, dude, you’re off in thought land again. Mind sharing with the rest of the class since we’re, you know, a _radio_ show?” Ben teases, relaxed as if the world didn’t just shift even a little.

But that’s right. There’s still a show to do and intimidating thoughts like that can come later. “Just thinking about the last time I tried fishing,” Jack fibs. “I ended up swimming with them instead of catching them.”

“It happens, bro,” Ben chuckles. “You know, I remember there was this one time my mom and I were out on the lake and - wait!” He cuts himself off, waving enthusiastically at the man in the suit who is now approaching their booth. 

There are only so many people Jack can think of who would be wearing a suit to a fishing tournament. Ben confirms his thoughts a moment later. “Alright, folks! You’ll never believe who we’ve got heading this way! The man of the hour, the man with all the power…” Jack fills the moment’s pause with a drumroll on the table, and Ben shoots him a thousand-watt smile for it. “Mayor Grisham!” Ben pronounces as the man takes his seat.

“Thanks so much for taking the time to talk with us today,” Jack picks up, turning a polite smile to the city official. It’s nice to put a face to the voice at last.

“Oh, I’ve been wanting to, believe me,” Grisham assures. “But you boys are on _so darn early._ I just can’t drag myself out of the bed.”

“The nocturnal life isn’t for everyone,” Jack nods.

“However, my assistant Riley transcribes every show for me. Seems like you’re doing a great job, the both of you,” He says, still smiling genially.

Ah, yes, the proxy that had made all his public appearances up until now. Jack supposes the mayor can only be bothered to attend the more publicized events around town.

“Oh! Thanks so much, Mayor Grisham!” Ben beams, drinking up the praise.

“You got it, Ben! Hey, how’s your mom doing these days?”

“Great! She’ll be thrilled that you mentioned her!”

“Least I could do.”

 _‘Literally,’_ Jack thinks but keeps it to himself. He still doesn’t understand what’s got Ben all excited, but maybe that’s just his inner Lily telling him that all politicians are scum. The guy probably just has a big head from being in a seat of power in this tiny place, but nothing too horrible.

“Now, Mayor Grisham,” Jack jumps in, “You’re here with us today because in just a few minutes you’re gonna be kicking off the 55th Annual King Falls Bass Tournament -”

 _“Absolutely!_ It’s one of the perks of the job that makes it all worthwhile. Who could turn down a beautiful morning on the lake, with all the people of King Falls?”

“Well, I take it that you’re not about to partake yourself, given your three-piece attire,” Jack points out, tone still carefully friendly. Grisham doesn’t miss a beat, giving a short laugh.

“I appreciate your humor, Jack,” Grisham says. “But I wouldn’t want to put the King Falls residents to shame! I’m quite an avid outdoorsman, you see.”

“How nice of you to give everyone a sporting chance.” Jack puts on his best agreeable smile, but can’t disguise the sarcastic edge to his voice.

“Oh yeah.” Grisham nods, still nice and relaxed. It just adds to Jack’s urge to poke him and see if he can ruffle a few feathers. He’s no Lily, but he still wants answers and the Mayor’s Office has been noticeably quiet about a certain subject. Who knows when he’ll see the man in person again?

They have a list of ‘safe’, approved talk from the Mayor’s Office already, but just maybe he can squeak by with this. As a concerned citizen, of course. “Now, while we have you here,” Jack says slowly, doing his best to not scare him off since he’s going noticeably off-script. “I’m sure the listeners would appreciate hearing any recent news you may have regarding-”

 _“Don’t,_ Jack.” Grisham’s voice drops low. He keeps his tone light, though several degrees chillier. “Another time and another place.”

Jack sits up straight, eyes narrowing. He had expected some sort of lazy non-answer and an excuse, not to be snubbed before he could even get to the topic. “As I’m sure you well know, Mayor-” He starts, but isn’t given room to finish.

“That’s all at this time,” Grisham says firmly. “Thanks for having me. Have your people call Riley and we’ll schedule something soon, Jack.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Jack snarks and watches Grisham stand from his chair. All sorts of words leap to the front of his mind, like ‘rude’ and ‘coward’ and ‘pathetic’. “You’re always just going to be hiding behind-”

Ben cuts him off by locking his wrist in a death grip, apparently afraid that Jack’s about to storm off after the Mayor as he walks away. He doubts that would really stop him if he actually wanted to, but it’s enough of a warning to make Jack hold his tongue.

He sighs irritably through his nose and turns to find Ben looking panicked. His grip is still _really_ tight. “He-he can’t - we’re supposed to be here for another three minutes, Jack!”

“I can’t control whether the Mayor will let the public know the truth or not,” Jack snaps, glaring after where Grisham disappeared into the crowd and shaking Ben off. He’s pissed on Mary’s behalf most of all, because _she_ of all people deserves to know if they’ve found anything. But he knows for a fact that she’s heard absolutely nothing besides the same empty platitudes. She’s been too tired to push, so Jack tried to do a little of the pushing for her. Fat lot of good that did.

“No, but you can control your mouth!” Ben fumes. “You ran him off! He was supposed to stay with us until we went live with the opening ceremonies.” The kid always throws a fit when they get too far off schedule, but never like this. He seems genuinely distressed for reasons Jack can only guess at.

“Ben, it’s fine! We can talk about something else for five whole minutes.” Jack tries to calm himself down as he watches Ben spiral further into worry. They don’t both need to be stressed while on air, and it looks like Ben is currently doing enough for two.

“I’m-I’m going to fix this!” He declares, ignoring Jack completely. “Uh - Oh, I got it!”

“Wait, what’re you-?... And he’s gone,” Jack says into the mic. “Ben just left in a full-blown sprint, I’m guessing to harass someone into being our surprise guest. Hope you’re getting all this, Riley,” He adds in a growl.

“Well, we’re about four minutes until go-time now,” He continues after glancing at his watch. He heaves a breath and decides to take the opportunity to wind down. He reminds himself that he’s good at talking - or, at this point, at least passable. “Good luck to everyone, break a leg and all that. Remember to wear your life preservers and be on the lookout for Kingsy, both of which are great photo ops that you can tweet us @KingFallsAm and hashtag King Falls B-”

 _“I got it!”_ Ben calls as he re-emerges from the crowd, dragging an old man behind him. “I got it! I’m back!”

“Ben’s back, ladies and gents and everyone else.” Jack raises an eyebrow as Ben hustles the man into the guest seat. “And he has a… friend?” He adds uncertainly, eyeing his disgruntled look. He’s wearing a participant wristband, so Jack assumes he was hauled from his boat by a harried Ben Arnold. If so, he can understand the annoyance and it’s not promising for a good impromptu guest piece.

“Jack, King Falls, _this_ is Mr. Herschel Baumgardner, winner of last years tournament!” Ben announces proudly once he’s reseated himself. “How are you doing today, Mr. Baumgardner?”

“Good, Benny, real good,” Herschel says, thankfully sounding agreeable. At least for now. “Just ready to get my spot and give it a go this year. Uh, you know it’s about to start, right boys?”

“Of course, Herschel, but please humor us for a moment. You’re looking to claim the title again this year I take it?” Jack’s willing to go along with Ben’s idea and guesses that he can keep him talking with a point of pride. 

He’s right on the money. The man puffs up proudly and gives them a snaggle-toothed grin. “You bet! Won it back in ‘92 and ‘83 as well. But don’t go askin’ for tips now, son,” He adds in a warning tone. Then, he turns as if to leave his chair. “Now, if you’ll ‘scuse me-”

“Uh-uh, for the listeners, Mr. Baumgardner,” Ben blurts desperately, “w-what you would say is, is, is the-the most important part-”

“Who put you up to this?” Herschel suddenly demands, whirling around to point an accusing finger at both of them. “Was it Cecil? That lily-livered, underhanded so-and-so!”

“N-no, no. We-we just needed to fill some time.” Ben chuckles nervously. He shoots a look at Jack, apparently still placing all the blame squarely on his shoulders.

It’s the wrong thing to say. “You’re going to pull me out of my boat to fill _time?”_ Herschel shouts, going from ‘kindly grandpa’ to ‘get off my lawn’ in less than ten seconds. Instead of a cane, he shakes his fist as if ready to clock either one of them. “You are a _dumb_ sonofabitch!”

Ben is able to tap the bleeper in time before he hunkers himself behind Jack. Reluctantly embracing his role as a meat shield, Jack holds his hands up palm-out. “Woah, woah! Just chill, okay? I don’t even know any Ce-”

“Don’t you tell me to chill, son! I’ll put a boot right up your ass like I did those Krauts back in W-W-II!” Herschel interrupts, looking more red in the face by the second. Dear God, don’t let this be the day Jack fights an old man on air. The barfing was more than enough.

“Fine, fine! Just leave, then!” Jack raises his voice as well, wildly waving a hand back towards the boats. Herschel stands up in a huff, nearly knocking his chair into the dirt as he does.

“I absolutely will! Newfangled radio bombs are looking for a hand-out. I ain’t givin’ you no tips! No spots, no tricks, no trade!” He continues ranting as he stalks off. Jack and Ben just silently watch him go, the latter still hunched behind his broader shoulders.

“... That was rude of you,” Ben says once he’s sure Herschel’s gone, sitting up and obviously trying to retain some dignity. Jack rolls his eyes. He can’t believe this.

“He was _your_ idea,” Jack reminds him. “And _you_ used _me_ to-” He stops when he hears a scream in the distance, breaking through the general chatter of the grounds. Jack doesn’t give himself time to hesitate, quickly unplugging their mics to go wireless. He’s already forgotten what he was going to say, but it hardly matters anymore.

“Ben, let’s go,” He says, vaulting over the table for the third time that day. “Whatever that is, we’re checking it out!”

“Should we really be-” Ben starts before he's interrupted by another scream. This time, mass panic ensues, concentrated around the nearest dock. One man yells _“There’s a body in the lake!”_ and Jack _freezes._

No. Not here. Not like this.

_~~They wouldn’t do this, not in broad daylight, and this isn’t how Sammy would-~~ _

“F-folks, it seems that a body has just surfaced at Lake Hatchenhaw,” Ben says, looking pale and unsure. It’s enough to wipe away the horrors forming in Jack’s mind and make him refocus. “We don’t have a visual, but-”

“We’re going to,” Jack finishes for him, grim and determined. He cuts Ben’s protest short, because _he doesn’t have time for this._ “Ben, second rule: break the story as it happens. _Let’s go!”_

Ben clamps his mouth shut and finally nods. He runs around the table to follow Jack, who’s already sprinting towards the commotion. Years of playing rugby have not only made him fast but taught him how to shove his way through just about anything, and he’s putting those skills to good use now.

“We’ve reached the dock,” Ben narrates from behind him, somehow managing to stay on his heels. “Th-there’s a lot of people, but - oh there’s Mayor Grisham! He’s standing-”

 _“Everybody, stay calm!”_ Deputy Troy’s staticy voice comes from somewhere on shore. If Jack had to guess, he’s probably wielding a megaphone and trying to stop anyone from getting trampled.

A hand tugs at his elbow. “Jack, what if it’s Tim?” Ben asks, sounding exactly like the scared kid he is.

“We’ll just have to see,” Jack grunts, still trying to fight his way through without pushing people into the water. If it’s anyone, it’s more likely to be Tim, now that he thinks about it. But Jack doesn’t know and he _has to_ be sure. They still can’t see anything from here, just Grisham standing at the end of the dock with a phone to his ear.

“Mayor Grisham!” Jack calls out as they finally make it to the front of the crowd, holding his mic forward. “Can you confirm that there’s a body here?”

Grisham definitely looks ruffled now. In fact, he is completely red in the face and glaring bloody murder at Jack and Ben. Jack doesn’t look away, meeting his challenging gaze head-on, daring him to try and back out now. He doesn't even glance at Ben, who he feels trying to hide behind him again.

“Do it,” Grisham growls into his phone, barely loud enough for Jack to hear, much less for the mic to pick up.

“Sorry, boys,” Troy’s voice comes in again, closer now but still using the megaphone. “But the mayor’s going to cut-”

And just like that, their mics go dead and their headphones fall silent.

“-you off!”

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Jack yells, shoving his useless headphones down around his neck. He’s started to shake, but whether it’s from anger or fear or adrenaline he doesn’t know and doesn’t _care_. “This is-”

“An _under control_ situation that you two are needlessly exacerbating!” Grisham shouts, barely remembering to pull the receiver away. “The tournament will start after a _momentary delay!”_ It sounds like an order even if it’s phrased like a reassurance. Apparently, his politician mode never fully shuts off, even during a crisis.

“Oh, so not only do you not care about letting breaking news air, but you’re also potentially putting people in danger just because you want your fucking photo op?” Jack can barely hear himself over his heart still thundering in his ears.

He looks past Grisham and sees a boat, the only boat out on the water, driving parallel to the shore and away from the docks. And the public eye.

“J-Jack,” Ben stammers, gripping his shoulder tightly. “Th-there’s obviously nothing for us to see anymore, l-let’s just-”

Another hand grips his arm, too wide to be Ben’s, and Jack whips around with something close to a snarl on his face. Troy’s standing there, brow pinched and gaze apologetic. One hand holds the megaphone, but the other still has a firm hold on Jack. He doesn’t know what Troy and Ben keeping seeing that makes them think he’s about to start swinging at any moment, but it’s getting annoying.

“I’m going to have to ask you gentlemen to _leave,”_ Grisham says, cool and collected once more. “Pack up your booth and go. You’re no longer welcome to stay for the tournament.”

The fight leaves Jack with his next few harsh breaths. Ben and Troy’s pleading looks outweigh his desire to keep screaming for answers. He unclenches his hands and shakes off the hands still holding him, not meeting their eyes but looking straight at Grisham who hasn’t moved a muscle. He waits. Jack looks away first.

“Fine,” He growls, then turns and stalks away. Almost everyone has cleared from the area already, now standing in restless groups off to the side. He hears the soft patter of Ben’s steps behind him, but he stays as silent as Jack.

There’s no one still at the booth when they get there, but their handouts are strewn across the ground and their equipment is unplugged from the generators. Jack grunts a wordless noise of frustration but bends down to start picking things up. Ben follows his lead, giving him a noticeable berth as they work.

Ben breaks the quiet after a few minutes, apparently assured that Jack isn’t going to bite his head off. “So… that was ‘serious journalism’, huh?” He asks tentatively, currently working on packing up their cases. 

“An attempt at it,” Jack snorts, glaring down at the soundboard he’s moving.

Ben sighs and seems to decide that a change of subject is the best course. “You are _really_ fast, you know. And you were shoving people out of the way like a linebacker!”

That breaks Jack a bit out of his stewing. He even cracks a smile. “I played rugby for years - up until I moved here, really. Comes in handy in crowds.” He absently rubs the spot where he broke his collarbone three years ago. Besides the pain, he mostly remembers being a horrible bed patient for Sammy.

“Oh my god, you’re a jock,” Ben breathes, eyes wide. “That explains so much.”

“Are you calling me buff, or just stupid?” Jack laughs at the way Ben turns pink. He’s really too easy (and fun) to embarrass.

“You-you're not stupid!” Ben wildly waves the arm that’s not carrying equipment. Jack has no idea what he’s supposed to be gesturing at, but it’s probably just a flustered tic.

“Oh, so you’ve been checking me out behind my back?” Jack teases, grinning when Ben turns fully red.

If he’s talking like this with Ben, he’s less likely to worry about the body and who it could be or what it could mean. He’ll take that distraction until he’s ready to implement a plan of action. For sure, he’ll have to go back to the library and search for lake-related incidents, Kingsy or otherwise.

“It’s because you can do stuff like _that!”_ Ben roughly gestures to the way Jack is loading their heavier pieces into the van. It’s not like it’s effortless, but Jack can see how Ben’s scrawniness would find it a bigger challenge than he does.

“You know, if you wanted to be of more help with this kind of thing, you could always start going to the gym with me.” Jack grabs one end of the folding table while Ben gets the other. Honestly, he hasn’t actually been to the gym since he first became obsessed with King Falls, but he knows there is one in town. It’d probably be for the best if he got back into that stress-reducing habit. 

Ben’s expression says that the thought alone makes him queasy. “I-I don’t know about _that,”_ He hedges, folding the legs on his end in sync with Jack and then moving forward with him.

“Don’t girls like guys with a little muscle?” Jack watches Ben’s face carefully. “So they can, like, punch apparitions and stuff - just for example.”

He can tell the moment it clicks in Ben’s mind because he turns a second, even deeper shade of red. Ben mumbles something inaudible in reply as they slide the table into the back of the van.

“Sorry, Ben, didn’t quite catch-” Jack is interrupted by a shot going off, followed by loud cheers and the sounds of over a dozen boats motoring off. Jack’s easy smile drops back into a scowl at the reminder of who’s making them pack up so early.

“C’mon man, we’ve just got the banner left and then we can get out of here.” Ben pats his shoulder lightly. Jack deflates with a sigh and follows him back.

“Maybe we can go to Rose’s - I’m sure it’s basically deserted right now,” Ben adds as they work quickly to straighten out and roll up the banner. He ties the strings in a neat bow before taking it under his arm and they leave their now-empty lot.

“Sure, Ben,” Jack agrees absently as he looks back over his shoulder. At this angle, he's able to spot Ron and Grisham talking behind one of the tents. Neither of them looks happy.

Jack’s resolve is set; he’s not going to let him get away with this.

********

Ben isn’t exactly subtle when he worries.

He’s a lot more chatty, for one. Talks about anything and everything that doesn’t have to do with the Lake or Grisham over their usual breakfast at Rose’s Diner. He lets Jack poke at him about his caffeine habits with more protests but less venom than usual. He stops commenting whenever Jack zones out into “thought land”, instead just throwing bits of food at him to bring him back into focus.

They’re lucky that Rose’s is actually close to empty right now, seating only a few truckers who don’t know there’s a tournament going on down the road. Otherwise their bickering and small food war would draw more complaints, but as it is the booths to either side of them are empty and they only have to deal with the disapproving looks of their waitress.

Jack does his best to put up a front and act normal, but that’s next to impossible when half his heart is still frozen with fear and half his brain is still running on a completely different track. Ben probably thinks he’s still pissed about the Grisham thing (which he absolutely is, but Grisham isn’t worth his energy right now) and seems to want to do his best to help Jack wind down.

Jack doesn’t know how Ben knows what he needs, doesn’t know how Ben’s burying his own anger and stress to help with his, and he certainly doesn’t know exactly when they moved past ‘just coworkers’. He does know that it’s a little nice to be cared about in a way that’s softer than Lily’s and less like a mother-hen than Sammy. He wishes he knew what Ben’s reading on his face to warrant any of this, because it has to be pretty bad if even Ben can see it. The kid’s great, but emotional intelligence isn’t high in his skill set.

But he doesn’t _need_ anyone else worrying over him and can only hope that the two of them can go back to normal soon. He just… hadn’t expected to be shaken up like this. For now, though, it’s - it’s fine. Totally fine.

Ben even pays the full bill over Jack’s protests, citing the weird food truck dare as something he owes him for since he wasted his money on it. Even then, they don’t leave until they’ve cleaned up the mess they made. Their offer to do so finally gets the waitress to stop giving them the evil eye, though she does stand by to monitor them and critique their bussing skills.

The drive back to the station and unloading of the van goes by in a similar manner - or he thinks it does, anyway. He gives Ben one-word answers instead of fully engaging, the strain of his muscles the only thing keeping him semi-aware. It feels like he blinks a few times and then he’s staring out the window of his own car, key in the ignition and idling in the parking lot.

Most of his body is screaming at him to sleep, to stop thinking about the rest of the world for a while and just let things shake out on their own. But fear is still constricting his chest and Rose’s pancakes are churning in his stomach almost as bad as the burger did.

He can’t wait for answers. Not when he knows exactly to find them.

********

Thankfully, General Aibileen doesn’t bother him today as he drives through Sweetser Forest. Jack’s not sure if it’s because it’s the middle of the day or he’s just gotten better at noticing when the signs get turned around, but either way, he’s not questioning it. Not right now, at least. If he thinks too much more he’ll render himself immobile and useless. He can’t let that happen yet.

The King Falls County Morgue is a low, flat building, tucked almost unseen behind a wall of dark pine trees. The lot is nearly deserted when Jack pulls in - which is a good thing, both for the mortality rate as well as Jack’s chances of getting in trouble. Not that he’s planning on doing anything particularly illegal but, well, Jack knows his shit luck.

It’s this thought, combined with his preconceptions from reading one too many horror stories late into the night, that makes him tense when he walks inside. But there’s no deputy waiting behind the door or any sort of grime on the walls, much less gore.

From what he can see, the interior is admittedly drab and outdated but maintained well enough. Beige walls, grey tiled floor, and a couple of worn chairs make it feel less stark than it could’ve been. There are even faded curtains framing the blinded windows, just a slightly different shade of brown. But the blinds are closed and the only light comes from the humming fluorescents in the ceiling.

Behind a pane of plexiglass set into the wall in front of him, a bespectacled man sits perched on a stool. He does not look up from reading what looks like the morning edition of _The King Falls Gazette_ , scanning the pages steadily and giving no sign that he noticed the door opening. When Jack walks closer to him, he also spots a small collection of animal-like figurines decorating the short desk, a couple bipedal but most… not. One looks like it’s supposed to be Kingsy.

When Jack clears his throat the man finally looks up but he does it very, very slowly, expression unchanging. Bit by bit, he slides a panel to the side so that he can speak with him clearly. “Can I help you?” He asks in a voice that’s high and nasal.

“A body-” Jack starts, then has to swallow past the lump in his throat. He focuses on examining the collection of beasts, studying their features to avoid picturing a pallid face. “A body came here this morning from Lake Hatchenhaw. I-I think I might be helpful. With identifying it,” He stumbles, not knowing how the protocol goes for this.

He reminds himself again that this is just a chance, a way to cover his bases, and that he has no concrete reason to think it could be… anyone he’s met in person. It’s the only way he’s holding onto his senses at the moment.

Jack dares a look back at the man when he thinks he’s ready. It’s hard to tell on the man’s dull face, but his eyes have narrowed slightly in a way that feels guarded. The man takes long enough to answer that dread begins to sink into Jack.

“The body in question is still being processed. If ID is found, the next of kin will be contacted for confirmation,” He says, as if that’s enough to end the conversation.

“And if not? Then what happens?” Jack presses. No matter who it is, that… won’t be him. He would never have a claim.

“Then missing person reports will be examined and compared against identifying marks and prints,” He responds in the same level voice, as if reading from a manual. “Do I know you?” He adds with a touch of suspicion, squinting at Jack’s face and adjusting his glasses. “You seem a bit familiar.”

Jack shakes his head, doing his best to keep his breathing even. The dry air scratches at his throat. As if he isn’t already having enough trouble speaking. “No, you must be thinking of someone else,” He says, then decides to try a different track. “Listen, just - I’m here for a friend, and she’s very worried. I just want to put her mind at ease as soon as possible.” It’s not quite a lie. He’s gotten very good at doing that.

“Are you from the _Gazette?”_ The man is still trying to read his face, one finger idly tapping the abandoned paper. “Mayor Grisham did warn us about… nosy journalists, with this body in particular.”

For a moment, Jack forgets his trepidation and sees red. “Seriously? I can’t believe Grisham’s twisting your arm about this!” He barely notices the way the man leans back and away from his outburst. He’s running hot now, and he’ll take it over the cold. “First, he snubs me live on air. Then, he cuts us off in the middle of a breaking news report! And now-”

“Oh!” The man exclaims, effectively cutting off Jack’s rant. It’s the first emotion he’s expressed beyond annoyed and it’s enough to startle him into silence. “Oh yes, I do know you! You’re Jack, from that AM radio show.” He almost looks excited about it, too.

“Uh, yeah…” Jack deflates, feeling thrown. “I’m Jack Wright, from the Jack and Ben Show, 660 on the dial,” He says, the phrase coming out automatically. “You… You’re a listener, then?”

“Yes, of course! Helps the nights go by around here.” The man points out a speaker set up in a corner of the ceiling, which is currently playing what sounds like hip-hop. “We were disappointed to have to change it earlier, since… the broadcast… stopped,” He trails off, looking at Jack carefully now as he seems to put two and two together. Jack silently shifts from foot to foot, wary of the sudden scrutinization.

“This story is important to you, isn’t it?” The man asks abruptly.

“It is,” Jack answers, then pauses and considers the wording of the question. Just calling it a ‘story’ feels… too impersonal. Like he’s just another intrusive journalist who’s pushing his luck for the scoop. Lily would leave it at that. He has no reason to explain himself to this stranger. But … something compels him to continue.

Right now, he’s never felt less like a journalist, less like his pushy sister, less like a concerned friend or community member or radio host. And out of all the faces he’s put on today, standing at what’s possibly the end of the line is the thing that finally makes it feel disingenuine to be anything but who he is - Jack, the lost and heartsick.

“But it’s not… strictly professional, honestly,” Jack ends up saying, everything shoved into that meaningless sentence - twisted and distorted, but there - in the way his voice cracks and wavers, in the tone of defeat and fear. He watches and waits to see if that makes it better or worse, forcing himself not to look away. Maybe he’ll get pity points or maybe this crosses the line of legality. If it’s the latter, he wonders if he’ll be so lucky as to have Troy be the deputy that comes to pick him up.

Because they _will_ have to come get him - he’s not leaving empty-handed, otherwise.

“The official report will be published in about a month.” The man pauses for a moment to look away and adjust a couple of his figurines. It looks and feels like a deflection, like he’s anticipating Jack’s ire and distancing himself. Jack tenses and prepares to argue until he hears him add, “Can you hold yourself back from reporting on this case until then?”

Jack’s mouth clicks shut and his eyebrows shoot up. He… he can’t really be saying what Jack thinks he is. But the man looks completely serious when he turns away from his plastic monsters and waits for an answer. “Y-yes, I can,” Jack affirms, brain scrambling to relabel the man as an ally. He holds up the first three fingers on his right hand, just for good measure. “Scout’s Honor!”

There’s a glint of amusement in the man’s eyes but Jack doesn’t have it in him to feel embarrassed. He nods and points at the door to Jack’s left. “Through there, if you would,” He says, then slides the window between them closed and hops off his stool. He shuffles out of sight and Jack just barely stops himself from running the ten feet to the door.

The man, who finally introduces himself as Joseph Dunn and is even shorter than Ben without the stool, guides him down the hall to what looks like a modest waiting room. It’s furnished similarly to the front area, with the addition of a small round table in the middle and a clock hanging on the left wall. It’s likely where they seat the families of the deceased.

Joseph then disappears through the double doors at the end of the hall, leaving Jack to his own devices for the moment. It feels like he’s been consigned to purgatory. It’s all he can do to make himself sit down instead of pacing. The wall clock ticks a steady tempo that Jack tries to focus on over the incessant twisting in his gut. He all but shoves his thoughts down a path of logic instead of panic and does his best to breathe.

It’s unlikely they’ll just let him in to look at the body - it’s evidence, after all, no matter who it ends up being. Even if Jack is taking advantage of their leeway, he holds hope that not all legal proceedings are actually thrown out the window with a little bit of familiarity.

He’s only a little surprised to have found a… fan, here of all places. He likes to think that he and Ben are one of the less-boring shows on air so late, so it makes sense given how the Coroner’s Office runs all day, every day. It’s a little flattering that he’s recognizable in person, something that never would’ve happened before. Though, this certainly beats hearing random shouts of “Shotgun Sammy!”

King Falls really _is_ different, but in a lot of ways that he hadn’t anticipated.

Joseph steps into the room only minutes later, according to the clock, though to Jack it seemed like hours. He’s holding a small folder. He takes the opposite seat and slides it across the table, like they’re making a business deal. Jack makes no move to take it.

“Dr. Rosenblum has already begun the postmortem, but here are the photos from when it was brought in,” Joseph explains. “A headshot, full body, and some personal effects. From a cursory look, the body appears to be male, if that makes a difference to you.”

“It… yeah,” Jack says weakly, suddenly rigid and unsure. The churning in his gut doubles, triples, multiplies until he’s swallowing bile down again. This moment, this folder, could mean the end of - everything. Of his search and of whatever life he’s begun here, of the hope and happiness he stubbornly cradles close to his chest, of the truest joy and love he’s ever felt, of any chance he has of piecing himself back together.

But he came here for answers, and he is going to get them. It could be none of that. It could be no one at all. Right now it’s indefinite, and nothing can happen if it stays that way. Schrödinger's cat. He’ll… find a way to deal with it, whatever the answer is. Somehow. 

His hands shake as he picks it up, short nails struggling to get a proper grip on the thin paper. His own rapid heartbeats drown out the ticking of the clock. The ring burns against his chest.

He’s never wanted to see a face less in all his life.

He opens it, then turns over the first photo. The bloated, grey skin distorts the features… but it’s not his Sammy.

Everything stills. Jack closes his eyes and breathes out slowly, allowing the knot around his chest to unwind. It’s not over yet. There’s still time. He still has a chance.

Head clearer now than it’s been in hours, Jack takes another look and glances through the rest of the photos, searching for a different face now. He had seen plenty of family pictures when they visited the Jensen home, but the man looks nothing like Tim, either. Even the clothes, a hoodie and jeans, are completely unremarkable. 

“I don’t recognize him,” Jack says out loud when he remembers that Joseph is still there. He slides the photos into the folder again and hands it back over. “He’s going to have to be John Doe for a little longer, I’m afraid.” He hopes that he sounds appropriately apologetic, but his capacity for expressing emotion is quickly draining. With things resolved, he no longer has an excuse to keep dragging himself forward. This is still probably someone’s family, someone’s friend, so he should still feel bad. But to him, all this has ended up being is another dead end.

Joseph takes the folder with a sympathetic smile that looks stiff and practiced. “Not a problem. Just remember to wait for the report to be published - and keep my name out of it altogether, okay?”

“Yeah, of course.”Jack smiles a little and holds up his Scout’s salute again, finding it somewhere in himself to pick up his good humor again. 

They both stand and exit the room, but Joseph calls out to him before he can take two steps. “Jack?”

“Yeah?” He answers, glancing back over his shoulder.

Joseph stares pensively at the photos, then looks up to meet Jack’s eye. “I hope you find whoever you’re looking for,” He says, apparently seeing right through him. Who knows, maybe Jack’s more transparent than he thinks, or maybe those glasses have some kind of enchantment that allows him to see people’s intentions. Or maybe it’s just one more thing about this town that keeps surprising him.

Jack’s hand twitches, but he holds back from reaching up. He’ll have to be more careful if he wants to keep things under wraps. “Thanks. For that, and for helping me.” He’s surprised to find his voice steady. He’s still far from settled, but anything’s better than before. And that’s because of Joseph.

Joseph’s smile is genuine this time. It makes him look younger. “Mayor Grisham doesn’t scare me too bad. And you seem like a trustworthy fellow, from what I’ve heard.” 

Jack laughs even though guilt sinks its claws into him. All he is is a liar. “Well, I hope you keep listening.”

“Count on it.” He nods at him and Jack returns it.

It feels like an eternity has passed in the dim building, but it’s still only mid-morning when Jack steps back outside. He takes a minute to let his vision adjust to the natural light before returning to his car.

Once he’s seated, he becomes aware of just how _tired_ he is. And for once, he’s tempted to actually listen to his body. _‘Research on the Lake can wait,’_ he decides as he starts the engine. If he waits until tomorrow, Ben will probably be available to come with and keep him from going too long. If he’s not too busy ogling the Head Librarian, that is.

Before he can do any of that, however, there’s one more thing he has to do.

The call picks up on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Hey Mary, it’s Jack.”

“Jack! Are you and Ben alright?! The kids and I are still at the tournament, but after- the thing, I know you two were sent packing like a couple of schoolboys.”

“We’re fine. We just drove off and got our normal breakfast at Rose’s. He was only trying to intimidate us.” At least, Jack’s pretty sure that was all it was. He likes to think he’s not so bad as to have made an arch enemy after one meeting.

“That’s a relief,” Mary says, though she doesn’t make it sound like it is. But this is why Jack’s calling - because he knows how horrible the actual worry that’s been running through her mind is. His weight is lifted, but it’s probably still crushing her.

“It’s not Tim,” He blurts out. Jack just wants her to have the same assurance that he has and he can’t find the energy to be tactful about it right now.

Her breath catches audibly. “Why- How did you-?”

“I just got out of the Coroner’s Office,” He cuts in. “He let me see pictures of the body. I’ve seen Tim in the ones around your house; it looks nothing like him.”

A long, staticy sigh. Then a moment of silence as she lets his words sink in. Finally, she speaks up softly. “Thank you, Jack. You… you don’t know how much this means to me.”

It takes an effort to swallow the _‘I do.’_ “Don’t mention it,” He says instead, even as the guilt digs itself further in. It’s been his constant companion for months, long before King Falls. But the longer he stays the more it tears deeper, with every lie he tells to every person he meets.

A lie by omission is still a lie.

“No, but seriously, don’t!” He adds, tone forcibly light. It covers his dark thoughts as much as the potential heaviness of his words. “I don’t want to give Grisham any excuse to arrest me on some trumped-up charge of ‘interfering with an open investigation’ or whatever.”

Thankfully, that gets a weak chuckle out of Mary. “My lips are sealed.” The silence stretches on and on until Jack is about to awkwardly say goodbye and hang up. But then she suddenly speaks up again. “Can you come over for dinner tonight?”

Jack can’t even begin to describe how startled he is by the question. “What? No, no. Mary, it’s fine! You don’t have to do that, I was just calling to let you know and-”

“Unless you have other plans, you’re driving that tuckus over to my house by six tonight,” She dictates, voice regaining some of its strength. “You keep wiggling out of it whenever you come over to help but I’m not having it this time!”

Mary’s barely older than him, but she still seems determined to mother him half the time. “It’s not like I only eat at Rose’s and the weird food truck,” He defends himself, although he carefully leaves out how he still forgets to eat sometimes when left to his own devices.

“Six o’clock,” She repeats, not taking any argument. There’s a quick pause but, before Jack can come up with another protest, she’s speaking again. “The kids are coming back from the bouncy house now. I’ll be telling them to expect you, so you better not disappoint.”

“Fine, okay.” Jack certainly doesn’t want to be responsible for that. He may be a master at pulling the puppy-dog eyes, but those kids are _lethal_ at it. Plus, he just… really likes kids in general and isn’t about to deny them, missing father or no. He wonders if Mary does this to everyone or if it’s just a weakness of his that’s one more open secret.

Respective goals accomplished, they bid each other goodbye and hang up. He takes a moment to admire Mary’s expert guilt-tripping tactic - it’s brutal, but effective.

After he finally starts down the road, he spots a police car driving in the other direction, the lights flashing but siren off because of the otherwise-empty road. Troy recognizes him first and gives him a friendly honk, which Jack returns with a wave. He doesn’t think anything of the interaction, or why the deputy would be headed in the direction he just came from.

Honestly, he’s just dead tired. He doesn’t expect to be rising anytime soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How's that for angst and humor? :D
> 
> I don't pretend to know exactly how this morgue thing works at all, just knowledge from some quick googling and a book I read years ago about a couple coroners. But introducing Joseph Dunn (Joe Dun, John Doe? I think I'm clever), a completely unimportant OC! There's gonna be a handful of those, because obviously, not everyone in town is a regular caller to the station, even if they are listeners. He's just there to get the scene to move forward and help populate the setting.
> 
> All that said - tell me if you laughed (that's my favorite thing to hear!), if I got you in the feels, what you liked and what you didn't. I love talking to readers and I'll always reply (and probably give you more hints about what's coming than I should, because I'm talkative like that).
> 
> Next update will be July 25th!
> 
> **EDIT 7/23/18:**
> 
> Alright, unfortunately I'm going to have to postpone updating. I really hate that I have to do this, but I've been having a major issue with my health for over a week now to the point where I haven't even been able to sit upright for long periods. As such, I haven't been able to write and the next chapter has been sitting half-finished.
> 
> I'm going to see my doctor on the 25th and I'm hopeful I'll be able to finish and update before the month is out! Thank you for your patience.


	4. a time for questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s a full moon and that means King Falls’ weirdness levels are - not elevated, exactly, but more specific, if you know what I mean. Tensions get high and conversations take weird turns, but Jack does his best to take it all in stride.
> 
> Featuring a questionable cross and a bro-bonding breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah. SUPER late update. I essentially skipped one. I’m really sorry and thank you so much for your patience. I put this in the endnotes of the last chapter, but to restate it I had a bit of a health crisis that drained my energy and made me unable to stand or sit upright for longer than a few minutes at a time. I did not and could not write during that period, which I hope you will understand.
> 
> That said, I’m doing better now! I’m really pumped for the next couple chapters, too!!
> 
> Also… you know how I got carried away and started expanding the library lore? Well, that happened with the werewolves too. Oops. I have too many questions that keep me up at night.
> 
> This chapter covers the events of episode 4 “Wolves Gone Wild” and wouldn’t be possible without the spectacular [Night](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OdeToFalling/pseuds/Scarlet-Letter-Mistakes)!

It’s four AM on the dot now, the transition music fading in his ears, and Jack’s ready to cause a scene.

He’s been trying to be on his best behavior tonight. He really, honestly has, but damn if it hasn’t been hard. Ben’s warning looks every hour have kept him stewing in his chair instead of blowing up on air, but if he has to sit through this a third time he is going to _scream_ (away from the mic, of course - his issue isn’t with the listeners, after all).

“Top of the hour here on King Falls AM, that’s 660 on the dial,” Ben says, resignation making his voice heavier and less enthused than normal. “And we’re-”

“We’re not gonna play that tape again,” Jack finishes for him, meeting his co-host’s glare with one of his own. He crosses his arms and Ben rolls his eyes.

“As Merv _instructed-”_

“Hey, I followed my marching orders,” Jack defends, not giving Ben an inch. “You and I both know it’s a miracle that I sat and recorded that stupid apology in the first place, and we’ve played it enough already! Grisham’s made his point! I don’t understand why we can’t just get back to the show already without-”

“Gotta do it!” Ben shouts over him, hitting the button to play the recording again.

Jack immediately reaches over to cut it back off, but Ben sharply hits his hand away. They glare at eachother for a beat before the slap-fight starts in earnest. Jack wins within seconds by roughly shouldering Ben out of the way, actually sending his chair back a couple inches. He punches the button with a triumphant grin that Ben returns with a glower.

“Ow! Jack, seriously?” He whines, rubbing his arm where he’d been hit. “That’s no fair! This is a _studio,_ not a rugby field, in case you’ve forgotten, you meathead.”

“Tough shit.” Jack takes the liberty to bleep himself since Ben’s still nursing his ‘wound’. “But I’m putting my foot down with this. You’re not stopping me.”

“That’s gonna bruise…” He mutters under his breath, barely loud enough for the mic to catch. Jack rolls his eyes - Lily certainly would’ve taken the hit better than that. Then Ben continues, louder this time. “I’m gonna have to file a report if we don’t play this at the top of every hour!” He says, like it’s a _gotcha_ , like that’s supposed to be a sufficient deterrent to _Jack goddamn Wright._

“I know,” Jack says with a calm smile and Ben eyes him in trepidation. He should, because Jack has a trump card that’s been hiding in his bag for the past couple of hours. Always be prepared, right? He pulls it out, watching Ben’s confused eyes widen and feeling more than a touch of self-satisfaction. “That’s why I already wrote it up, for the exact purpose of filing it when I got tired of this crap,” He continues, slapping the papers in front of Ben with a satisfying _thump._

Ben just gapes at him, somewhere between surprised and exasperated, and reaches for the report. Jack talks over the rustle of paper. “I’m _co-producer,_ too, remember? I can and will do whatever paperwork is needed for the good of the show. That includes whatever it takes so that we don’t have to comply with censorship and maintain our _integrity.”_

“D-Don’t throw my words back at me!” Ben snaps, glancing up to shoot him a glare before returning to quickly scanning the pages. But Jack knows he won’t find a thing wrong with it.

“Merv can come chew me out himself, if he can actually be bothered to show his face.” Jack pointedly ignores Ben’s indignant sputtering and continues talking over him. “I know you don’t want to do it any more than I do but you’re trying to play it safe, so I’ll take the heat for us both. Now, let’s just keep rolling.”

That finally gets Ben to stop protesting, though he still looks far from pleased. He groans, covering his face with his hands, but leaves his mouth free to talk unmuffled. “I’m not going to thank you because you’re being a jerk about it,” He grumbles, which isn’t a no.

“What is your _problem_ with picking fights with Mayor Grisham when we’re on the air, anyway?” Ben adds, looking up as he builds steam again. “You already ran him off when he was scheduled to talk with us at the tournament-”

“That we apparently _‘created a controversy’_ at,” Jack cuts in with a mocking tone. At Ben’s renewed glare, he throws his hands up in aggravation. “People deserve to know! People who could potentially have been in _danger.”_ He doesn’t mention Mary, partly because he had already resolved that but mostly out of respect for her privacy. But he can tell Ben knows what he means.

“I’m not saying they don’t!” Ben fires back. “But, sheesh, we were commentating on a fishing tournament, not hosting a press conference! There was no need to start grilling him like that out of nowhere.”

“Do you really think we’d get actual answers if we went through the ‘proper channels’? There hasn’t been a word on the abduction,” Ben tenses at the term, but Jack bulldozes forward, “in more than a week - and they won’t even call it that! It’s still just a ‘disappearance’, even after we gave them the tape!”

“Maybe they _have_ leads but don’t want to be broadcasting them all over the place!” Ben hisses. “You don’t know who or _what_ could be listening to our radio signals.”

That, of all things, finally makes Jack pause. He… hadn’t actually considered that. Hosting this show had just been a job to him when he started, but of course the radio’s a tool of communication that can be tampered with like any other. Something that can be listened into and hijacked.

Like phone calls.

But as much as Jack appreciates a healthy dose of paranoia, he’s certain that the real reason is much shallower. “Or maybe they have absolutely nothing but don’t want to embarrass themselves by admitting it,” He clips back, though more subdued now.

Ben, however, is still riled up. “Jack, _please!_ We trust our authorities here in King Falls and there’s good reason for that.”

It’s all Jack can do to keep himself from snorting, or even outright laughing. Befriending Troy hasn’t exactly done much for his opinion of any authority, King Falls or otherwise. But it’s clear to him after only a few weeks that King Falls is just as bad, or possibly _worse,_ with the way they try to sweep everything under the rug.

“Yeah, because they strongarm the media to the point where you don’t bother to question anything! Channel thirteen’s a perfect example of this,” He counters.

“Don’t bring _them_ into it. They can suck it but that’s just low-hanging fruit, man.”

Ben’s little bubble of idyllic small-town life is going to burst one of these days, but apparently that day just isn’t today. Jack’s about to snipe something back when the audio abruptly cuts to Esther Rollen’s piece. He shoots a murderous glare at Ben, who immediately puts his hands up in defense.

“Did you just-”

“No, no! That wasn’t me! You helped me with the schedule, dude, you _know_ the sewing corner sendoff announcement was slated for 4:32 AM. I would _never.”_

He’s right - Jack _does_ know. Ben’s still eyeing him warily, tense and possibly ready for another tussle. But instead of continuing the argument or trying to shut it off again, Jack sighs and leans back in his chair and just lets Esther’s favorite heavy metal blare in his ears. Ben stays quiet, too, apparently taking it as a reprieve as well.

Jack closes his eyes and runs a hand through his hair, knowing but not caring that doing so makes his hair stick up in all sorts of weird ways. They are just broadcasting audio, after all, and it’s not like he’s gunning to impress Ben or anything. This movement knocks his headphones back, but he readjusts them a moment later out of habit.

When he opens his eyes again as the music fades out, he sees his co-host with his shoulders hunched and pouting. Ben’s calmer now, but obviously still expecting to continue their argument.

But neither of them are shock jocks, so it’s not like that’s going to make good radio. And… he really doesn’t want to fight anymore, not over something that both of them technically agree on in the first place. Besides, Riley is still recording their every word, and he’s not going to give Grisham the satisfaction of dedicating an entire hour of their broadcast to letting him drive a wedge between them.

“You mad at me for getting us kicked out, too?” Jack asks before silence can set in, needing to get one last piece in. He tells himself that it’s so everything is on the table and not just out of stubbornness. Ben grimaces but thankfully doesn’t start shouting again.

“Well, not exactly,” He allows, to Jack’s surprise. “Mayor Grisham did go a little overboard with that.” It’s as close to a denouncement as Jack is going to get.

He’ll take it. “ _Overboard?_ Is that another fishing joke?” He asks, and that finally gets Ben to crack a smile. Though, it looks like he’s trying hard not to. It’s amazing, the lengths the kid will go to keep up appearances even when he’s always wearing his heart on his sleeve.

“Is everything just a joke to you?” Ben snorts, affection leaking into his voice. It makes Jack smile, too, wider and more freely.

“You’re the one who keeps making them,” Jack points out. “I’m just trying to help the audience keep up with your _amazing_ sense of humor.”

“Shut up! You’re just as bad. Takes one to know one.”

“Well, speaking of imitation… you’re saying that you actually liked playing ‘serious journalist’ for a few minutes?” He teases, grinning when Ben pinks slightly.

“It was… pretty exciting,” Ben admits. “Even if it got us nowhere fast.”

“Next time we’ll be smarter about it - bring our portable recorders or something,” Jack muses, steepling his fingers in front of him. He barely holds back a laugh when Ben quickly sits up in his chair, actually looking a little freaked.

“Who said anything about a ‘next time’?!”

“I did. Just now, in fact. And you were agreeing with me.”

Ben’s the one who finally breaks and laughs, rolling his eyes at him. “You’re the absolute worst,” He says, not sounding like he means it at all.

“What are friends for,” Jack replies. Although it’s the first time he’s actually called Ben his friend out loud, the word comes to him naturally.

“Guess so,” Ben agrees without missing a beat. He’s finally relaxed again, apparently ready to drop their argument if Jack is. For now, at least.

“C’mon, you must like me at least a little, right?” Jack asks and puts on his best puppy-dog eyes for good measure. Ben groans as soon as he sees them.

“Oh my- okay, stop, stop! Stop with the face! We’re cool, okay?” He waves his hands wildly as if to try and wipe Jack’s existence away. Jack complies and lets his expression drop back into a grin.

 _‘Works every time,’_ He thinks smugly. Sammy’s still utterly helpless to them even after all these years. He had tried to turn them back on Jack once, but the attempt was more funny than effective in all honesty. It had made him fall just that much more in love, though.

“If we take some calls now, instead of… th-the other thing, then you’re getting me pancakes at Rose’s,” Ben states, pointing a warning finger at Jack for good measure.

Jack smiles and nods, signaling his compliance. “Sure thing. But that’s a one plate offer - I won’t make that mistake twice!” He amends. Ben replies by sticking his tongue out at him.

Jack grins and turns his eyes on the soundboard. “Line 5, you’re live!” He says, choosing a blinking light at random.

“Well how about that! And here I was, ready to turn around and drive on up to the station to make sure y’all wouldn’t kill each other.”

“Hey, Troy!” Jack greets with a smile. The Deputy’s voice sounds a little distant, making Jack think he’s using some kind of hands-free device while driving. Seems like something he’d do, responsible and all.

“C’mon, we didn’t sound _that_ bad,” Ben insists, but then his face scrunches up in a wince. “Did we?”

“Like two squirrels pitchin’ a hissy fit over the last nut in the tree,” Troy states, fond and just a touch exasperated. 

“Sorry about that,” Jack chuckles. “But we’re good in here now, promise. Besides, it’s not like Ben could do any real damage if it came to that.”

“It’s not him I was worried about,” Troy says, and they both have a laugh over Ben’s indignant _“Hey!”_

“Traitors,” Ben growls, absolutely no heat behind it.

“Must be a slow night on patrol if you were gonna take the time to come over and personally scold us.”

“Now don’t you go jinxin’ me, Jack! Tonight’s a full moon, and that’s when all the _crazy_ stuff happens.”

“Crazy?” Jack echoes, raising an eyebrow at Ben. “Like what, exactly? Is there a big spike in paranormal activity?”

“I mean, as a general rule, yeah,” Ben answers. “Even weak apparitions can become visible in the light of a full moon, for example. The day is reportedly key in a lot of spells. And then there’s the local werewolf pack, of course.”

Jack had been following up until that last one. “Wait, werewolves? King Falls has a notable werewolf population?”

“Oh, yeah,” Troy says. “Although their territory is outside city limits, so they don’t end up botherin’ folks in town all that often.”

“Does the full moon trigger an obligatory shift, or is that just the best time for hunting because of increased visibility in the forest?” Jack wonders, half to himself.

“Hell if I know,” Ben shrugs. “It’s not like I’ve met any of them - or, if I did, I didn’t know it.”

“So you aren’t… _a-were_ if you did?” Jack puns because he can’t help himself. Ben groans, but at least it gets a chuckle out of Troy.

“Oh! Sorry, boys, but I’ve got another call. You best behave, now!”

“Sure.”

“No promises.”

Troy hangs up and Jack meets Ben’s glare with a grin. “Honesty’s the best policy,” Jack defends.

“Did Honest Abe tell you that, too?” Ben asks sarcastically.

“You of all people know I haven’t seen him since the reopening,” Jack counters, trying for serious, though he can’t help his grin. “Seeing as how you always come with me when I go to the library, just so you can talk with-”

“Anyways,” Ben cuts in hurriedly, “good luck out there tonight, Troy! Let’s take another call. Line 9, you’re live on King Falls AM with Jack and Ben.”

“Christ, it’s about damn time! I was told you would call _me,_ and instead I turn on the radio and hear you yackin’ it up with the damn deputy! And you call yourselves _‘professionals’_.”

Jack’s positive his face mirrors Ben’s look of ‘oh shit’. “Bass tournament winners were scheduled for nearly ten minutes ago,” Jack murmurs after a glance at his watch. “Ben, you get the other one on the line,” He adds, because Ben looks like he’s panicking and that won’t do. The kid jumps but gladly takes the directions to follow, quickly dialing into the second line.

“Uh, welcome to the show, Mr. Herschel Baumgardener,” Jack starts awkwardly, trying to get back on track.

Herschel doesn’t even acknowledge the greeting. “What’d you mean, _‘other one’?_ Don’t tell me that usurpin’ son of a bitch is stealin’ my airtime too!” Bless Ben and his reflexes. “I knew there was something fishy goin’ on, you’re all conspirin’ together ain’t ya?!” He continues to shout, getting more worked up as he goes. 

Jack consoles himself with the fact that they’re speaking over the phone, and the chances of Herschel actually bothering to drive up to the station to physically fight them are low. Probably. “There’s no ‘conspiracy’,” Jack assures, doing his best to emulate Sammy’s patience. “You and Cecil tied fair and square. I know it probably sucks to have to split the winnings and everything, but-”

“But nothin’! I’ve got more skill than that pathetic assface and everyone damn well knows it! It’s beyond unsportsmanlike, messin’ with a man’s boat like that, and should’ve gotten him kicked off that podium.”

How in the hell did Sammy do this? “Sometimes you just have bad luck - doesn’t mean you can’t learn to share like every other kindergartener!” Jack knows getting peeved won’t help, but he really doesn’t know how to make this man see reason. “This is your fourth time winning, and as far as I know it was Cecil’s first! Can’t you be happy for your friend instead of making up problems that-”

“Just where do you get off callin’ _me_ childish?! And a so-called _friend_ wouldn’t go pokin’ a hole in the bottom of my boat!”

 

“Well, it’s a good thing you’ve got another one! _Several,_ in fact, since I repeat that you’ve won _three other times._ Isn’t that a record or something? Really, this is petty.”

Before Herschel can go on a bleep-spree, Ben jumps in. “Yes, it _is_ a record! Mr. Baumgardener is the first _ever_ to win four titles! 1989, 1992, and now back-to-back in 2014 and 2015.”

“Well I guess that’s somethin’,” Herschel grumbles. “But I could’ve _really_ won, and by a lot more, if I hadn’t almost been sunk right after I caught my last fish! And the only one I can see having done that is-”

“Herschel? Is that you?” A slow, severely slurred voice interrupts. “How ya doin’ buddy? I miss ya.”

“Uh, everyone - Cecil Sheffield, the other 2015 tournament winner!” Ben introduces hastily. “Turns out he was on Line 6 the whole time, no wonder I kept getting a bu-”

“Cecil! You cheatin’ dog pecker!” Herschel cuts in. “I’d known it was you who-”

“Benjamin Arnold? Why’re you on the radio?” How the man ever won anything with a reaction time like that, Jack will never understand. “Shouldn’t you be workin’ on your essays? You don’t need any more late ones, now do ya, Mr. Arnold?”

“He’s not in your damn class anymore, ya slow-minded doofus,” Herschel snaps. “You’d be with the program if you weren’t always such a limp-dick drunkard!”

Ben dutifully bleeps him, then makes a noise somewhere between a sigh and a gasp, but either way it’s extremely exasperated. “We’re gonna have to ask you to watch your language, Mr. Baumgardener.”

“To be fair, these are some of the more creative insults I’ve heard,” Jack responds idly. If they knew where he was coming from with the Shotgun shock jock stuff, maybe they’d be more appropriately impressed by the comment. As it is, there’s just more yelling.

“Oh, I can get _real creative._ And believe you me, I’ve got a whole hell of a lot to say about this shitfaced, ass lickin’ boobstain!”

“Now c’mon, Hersh, they’re just kids. You can just call me if ya want, buddy. Or we can take the boat and-”

“Like I’d drag myself down into the hogshit to sit with your colludin’ ass, you moutherfucking-”

After the bleep, it’s just a long dial tone. And then blessed silence. 

“... Probably a good call,” Jack finally says. “We don’t need the FCC down our throats, too.”

“This is a nightmare,” Ben groans, head in his hands. Jack reaches over and pats him consolingly on the shoulder.

“Here, I’ll take over screening calls,” Jack offers. Ben doesn’t respond beyond a grunt, so Jack flips the appropriate switches to transfer the input to his headphones. He then makes the mistake of checking in on Line 2.

“Hello? Oh, _finally_ you’ve put me through! This is an _emergency,_ boys, and we are _all_ out of sorts!” Says an effeminate voice, only for Jack’s ears at the moment. 

There’s some weird background noise, but it’s not like the buzz of insects or… singing voices. Jack breathes out a silent sigh, releasing leftover tension. It’s still danger, but probably just of the… normal kind. Relatively speaking.

This definitely isn’t the ‘wind-down’ kind of call Ben is probably hoping for, but Jack can’t just turn down someone who seems to be trying to report a threat. He doesn’t even bother muting his mic to respond. “We’ve got Line 2, says it’s an emergency.”

Ben sits up straight, looking honestly baffled. “Wait, then why call _us?_ And not, like, oh I don’t know… _911?_ ”

“Second rule,” Jack reminds him, which makes Ben scowl.

“That rule already got us in enough trouble as it is!”

Jack ignores him and patches the caller in. “Can’t hear you, I’m over here actually being a serious journalist. Line 2, what’s going on? Are you and whoever else alright?”

“We most certainly are _not!_ The Deputy is already on his way, but we are _traumatized._ And I really don’t need the two of you makin’ this terrible night worse with all this damn arguing!”

To Jack’s surprise, Ben doesn’t sink down further into his chair. Instead, he perks up with a concerned look on his face. “Wait, is this Archie Simmons?”

“The one and only,” Archie declares.

“Is there something wrong up at the Pomchi Palace?”

“Oh, _pomchis._ That’s what I keep hearing in the background,” Jack says, though he only realizes it was out loud when Ben shoots him a questioning look.

“Uh, yeah. Archie breeds them, and-”

“Best bitches in the tri-state!” Archie interrupts happily and, unexpectedly, isn’t caught by Ben’s magic trigger finger.

“That’s their motto,” Ben explains at Jack’s look and, well, he supposes that makes sense. “And they, the-the pomchis that is, can, uh… get a little- a little loud, I guess,” He continues with an awkward half-shrug.

“You try seein’ one of your own _violated_ and not get yourself in a tizzy!” Archie snaps, back to the distressed damsel. Then there are several close-by yips, which Archie shushes gently. “I know, baby, I know. Daddy loves you very much! He’ll make that angry man-werewolf will _pay,_ don’t you worry baby girl.”

There’s a short pause while Jack and Ben exchange looks, and it’s Jack who takes the plunge and asks. “Okay, what exactly is the story here? Go back to the beginning.”

Archie gladly obliges - Jack gets the sense that he’s a big gossip. “Well, I live off of Route 72, damn near out of town. It’s usually nice and quiet, ‘cept for those damn trashy rednecks in their trailer park every damn Saturday night.”

“ _But,_ tonight, it’s not nice and quiet?” Ben asks hesitantly.

“Hell no! I woke up to the most god-awful squawlin’. I mean it sounded like a freight train hit a barrel of screamin’ billygoats. Half a step below a damn eight dicked bottle rocket.” This time Archie does, in fact, get bleeped.

“That is vivid,” Ben replies, looking pained.

“Have I mentioned how much I love this town’s creativity with the English language?” Jack asks, earning a glare from his co-host/co-producer whose censor finger is getting a workout. Jack clears his throat and addresses Archie again. “Uh, go on.”

“It was so terrible a noise, I thought I might’a dreamed it. But then I heard it again! So, I threw on my slippers, and I went runnin’ towards the back of the house, an’ I’m scared because I just paid - well, I paid a bundle for a couple of these new pomchi bitches.” Once again, it flies in this context.

“So I’m worried that maybe Rufus, that’s my labradoodle, maybe snuck into the backyard and roughed up one of the pomchis. So I rushed toward the back and Rufus is in the Florida room, just a growlin’ mind you, so it wasn’t him. So I burst open the back door, and what do I see?”

Jack doesn’t even know if Archie paused for breath during all that, but now that he has, he’ll play along. “Was it a werewolf… _attacking_ one of your… pomchis?” He asks as delicately as he can. He has a bad feeling where this is going and isn’t sure how ‘family-friendly’ it’s considered.

“Now, what’s with that tone of voice?” Archie interrupts his own story to ask. “Jack, do you even _know_ what a pomchi is? Please tell me you’ve read a damn book.”

“Of course I do!” Jack’s a little offended - even if he already didn’t, it’s right there in the name if you think about it for five seconds. “It’s a half-pomeranian, half-chihuahua. A little over half a foot tall, fluffy, with big ears and a sharp face. Kinda fox-looking but in a cutesy way.”

Ben raises an eyebrow at him and Jack shrugs in response. “What? I’m a dog person, and cross-breeds are cool. They tend to have fewer health issues, and lots of the combos are not only really cute but functional. Like Rufus - his breed is about as hypoallergenic as pets get.”

“Oh, Ben, I _like_ this co-host of yours,” Archie practically purrs. “Jack honey, I could listen to your honeydew voice talk _all_ night long.”

“Uh-uh, thank you?” Jack stutters, caught off-guard. His voice is only a _little_ higher than normal, he’s pretty sure. “But, um, let’s hear _you_ talk - you still haven’t finished the story.”

“Right, right!” Archie responds, thankfully getting himself back on track and leaving whatever _that_ was behind. “I go outside and I see a half-man, half-dog, bent over hunchin’ the _hell_ out of my twenty-four hundred dollar Princess Von Barktooth!”

“Not Princess Von Barktooth!” Ben exclaims, sounding genuinely worried. 

_“Yes!_ And now I gotta stay up all night watchin’ the Princess and dealin’ with the _law._ Lord knows I’m worried that this leads to long term emotional distress - or _worse!_ ”

“Now _that_ would be an interesting cross-breed,” Jack says, mouth ahead of his brain once again.

“This is _not_ the time darlin’,” Archie says testily. Then his voice suddenly becomes trembly, like he’s about to cry. “Now I guess we can just throw out the Westminster trophy! That was _not_ in our five year plan!”

Ben and Jack exchange another look, but it’s obvious that Ben’s curiosity quickly gets the better of him. “I have to. What _was_ the five year plan?”

“Princess Von Barktooth was supposed to fall in love with another purebred pomchi, who sweeps her off her feet, holds open all the doggy doors for her, shares all his treats,” Archie explains, still sounding teary. “Isn’t that right, lil Princess?” He addresses the dog in a coo.

“Ar-Archie, have you had issues with the werewolves before?” Ben asks. It’s a fair question that Jack’s glad he thought to ask, because based off what they’ve been told the werewolves shouldn’t be a pressing issue. This could be a freak incident, but increasing activity could signal behavioral changes or shifting territorial boundaries. And then that would mean the question of _why._

“Oh my gosh, who _hasn’t?_ Ol’ Dillon hillbilly Baxter used to pepper buckshot those chicken thievin’, shapeshiftin’ sons of bitches!” At least Archie’s censor-count is still nowhere near that of their last caller.

Still, the answer is concerning, and not just because of possible assault charges for firing on someone that’s half-human. Though, you’d think that King Falls would by the type of place to have laws like that on the books.

“So much for not bothering anyone in town,” Jack mutters. But, to be fair, Archie had said himself that they were out on the edge of town, so Troy probably wasn’t lying for the most part. He still wants to check. “Has this always been the case, or has it just started recently?”

“Well now, you’ll have to give me a minute to think about that,” Archie says, then the line falls quiet except for the continued barking.

Ben surreptitiously turns down the call’s volume for the moment before addressing him. “You getting at something here, Jack?”

Jack shrugs, not sure how to start explaining his thought process. “Just trying to help everyone stay informed. I was here for a month until I even heard about the werewolves - that happened, you know, earlier _tonight._ ”

“You know, you could always just ask,” Ben says, like it’s simple and obvious, like there isn’t a huge risk that comes with getting involved with Jack. “I don’t mean to brag, but I _am_ something of a paranormal expert when it comes to King Falls,” He continues with a self-satisfied grin.

Jack is saved from having to respond by Archie’s voice again, and he turns the volume back up accordingly.

“Boys, you still there? It didn’t even cross my mind until you mentioned it, I’ve just become so used to their rowdy ways, but there really wasn’t hardly _ever_ an incident so close to a home in the _longest_ time, until maybe a couple years ago? Don’t know why they decided they suddenly needed to get all close an’ personal, but now we’re havin’ to sufferin’ for it!”

Jack itches to write this down, or at least interrogate further for a more specific timeline. He doesn’t care that there isn’t a clear connection - that’s what he had thought about the library, only to run into an apparition with an uncanny knowledge of his situation. And even if it ends up being nothing relevant, he doesn’t like having so many unknowns when it comes to a potential threat.

The most dangerous thing one can do is underestimate.

But now Archie is going on in an increasingly distressed voice again, about his poor babies and lost investments. Not wanting the man to work himself into hysterics, Jack interrupts the gentlest voice he can muster. “But is the Princess okay right now?” 

Miraculously, that seems to calm him down. “Oh, Jack, you’re so sweet,” Archie sighs. “And needless to say, we are more than a bit shaken by this turn of events,” He says, still unsteady but clearly making an effort to compose himself.

“I suggest you take her to the vet first thing in the morning, but I’m sure she’ll be just fine,” Jack assures.

Archie takes an audible deep breath. “Of course, of course. Thank y’all so much, I think I even feel a bit better - Oh! That must be Troy a-knockin’ at the door, I gotta go! Have a nice night, Jack! And you, Ben.” With that, he hangs up and leaves them with a dial tone.

Jack dutifully disconnects the line as Ben speaks up. “Thanks for letting all of us know there’s been some activity on the werewolf front, Archie. And for being so _welcoming_ to my co-host-slash-co-producer here.” Although the words could mean any number of things, Ben doesn’t seem to be anything but gently teasing. He’s still relaxed and even smiling at Jack.

Still, Jack laughs nervously. “Yeah, um, sorry for turning that into a bit of ‘Designer Dogs 101’. Apologies to all the cat people listening.” He then does the only thing he can in a situation like this - deflect. “What about you, Ben? Cats or dogs? Answer carefully, now.”

“Um - dogs? I guess?” Ben answers uncertaintly. Jack makes a sound of approval, listening with one ear while he flips through the other lines still on hold. “I mean, I didn’t have either as a kid. I actually had a-”

“Oh, uh, sorry Ben,” Jack hastily cuts in, “But there’s another panicked caller on Line 1.” Won’t stop wailing in his ear, actually, about a… _‘dog’_. He patches it in so everyone else can hear.

“Jack! Ben! It’s _bad_. It’s _real bad_ , you know?”

“What happened, Finn?” Ben asks tiredly, apparently resigned to how this night is going to go. He and Jack will have to discuss later how to schedule extra carefully on nights with full moons.

“He says he hit a ‘dog’ off Route 72,” Jack answers, making his doubt clear - but mostly he’s just really, really worried. “Finn, did you stop? Are you still in the truck?”

“Oh, yeah, braked and pulled over as soon as I hit the fella. There’s no one else around… I’m shakin' somethin’ awful here,” Finn says in a pained voice.

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” Jack says, trying for gentle again. Finn is sounding like a spooked animal himself. “But you should really get moving. _Seriously,_ stay in your seat and keep driving. There’s been reports of… wolf activity near there, and in the dark you can’t be sure.” He opts to not say “werewolf” just in case Finn won’t take that threat seriously. But he’s thinking it, and he knows Ben is too. The proximity to Archie’s is too much of a coincidence.

“Really?” Finn responds, and for a moment Jack thinks he’ll take the advice. He’s unfortunately very wrong. “But I-I couldn’t handle it if I ran over someone’s poor pooch and didn’t even check. I’m just- I’m just gonna look real quick.”

“Did you not hear a _word_ I just said?” Jack cries. King Falls does _not_ need another death or disappearance - and why does it always happen during their show?

Finn has the worst selective hearing Jack’s ever had the displeasure of dealing with. He’s still narrating as if Jack hadn’t spoken. “Oh, he’s up! At least he’s alive. And he’s… fellas he’s _big_. He’s seen me, I think he’s tryin’ to come closer. What in the-?”

“Finn, get your maple lovin’ ass back in the truck!” Ben shouts, but it’s too late.

Finn barely gets another exclamation out before the creature is upon him. For a tense moment, all they hear are the noises of a struggle. Then, a beat of silence.

Jack can’t take this. “Finn? Finn, are you-?” He jumps when a howl sounds loudly in his ears, followed by several more in the background. Then there’s a sharp _crunch_ and the line goes dead.

He cuts it off, wondering _‘Why me?’_

********

“Okay, but _legally,_ what are werewolf attacks classified as?” Jack asks, poking his fork in Ben’s direction. “Like, I know the police department is kind of a catch-all and Troy came for Archie’s case, but is that because the 911 dispatcher decided that or does Archie have his number like we do? I can’t tell what’s more likely with a small town like this.”

Ben’s already halfway through his plate of pancakes (he ordered the largest one, the bastard, getting the most out of Jack’s promise that he could) and Jack has to wait a moment for him to finish chewing. At least he has some table manners.

“Dude, I _very honestly_ do not know,” is Ben’s completely unhelpful answer. “I’m telling you, you’re better off asking Troy about this stuff. But really I’m not sure any of this is even on the books.”

“And why the fuck not?” Jack asks irritably, pausing to take a drink from his cup. Can you _angrily_ drink coffee? It’s not like he’s trying to, but every disappearance leaves him more on edge. And he was already on edge enough as it was. “If stuff like this happens often, if there’s been a pack in the woods for _years,_ then shouldn’t there be a protocol?” He’s discouraged that there doesn’t seem to be.

Alien abductions being an abnormal thing? Yeah, that’s understandable. Dead body in the lake? Needs investigating before any conclusions are drawn, sure. But a well-known werewolf pack that’s been roaming around nearby without any sort of checks? Strange and, frankly, disconcerting. Are the police here really that inept or unwilling to change? Or is it just another one of many things they ignore in some weird game of control? Who does that even _benefit?_

“I don’t know how that would even work,” Ben admits. “But I think there’s an unofficial protocol? Probably? Like I said, a better question for Troy. He’s probably had a long night, though, so maybe run that by him later,” He adds, like he knows exactly what Jack’s thinking. Jack… does sometimes forget that most people need to sleep on a regular basis.

“Look, I get that the werewolves likely don’t want to… out themselves, so to speak, but if they’re a known presence then shouldn’t there be protections for their personhood? Or for people with neighboring properties, or… you know, anyone they end up attacking?” Their waitress, Isabel, tops off his cup again and Jack takes a big gulp, barely noticing the burning sensation. He hasn’t been… fully in tune with his body for a couple hours now, but it’s fine. Totally fine.

Ben gives him a very tired, very flat look. “Jack, you’ve been asking me stuff like this for, like, ten minutes. I. Don’t. _Know._ When I said I was an expert, I didn’t mean all this technical stuff! I meant, like, you know… legends and… stuff.” 

“Well, you should’ve specified,” Jack grumbles, but he honestly isn’t all that sour about it. It’s just the journalist in him trying to gather the facts. It doesn’t feel like there’s a lot more he can do at the moment.

Ben looks at him for a long moment, then face softens considerably as he returns to cutting up what’s left of his stack. “Look, man, I get it. You’re worried about Finn. I am too! But starting a campaign for werewolf rights isn’t gonna tell us what happened or change anything,” He says sagely before stuffing a huge forkful of pancake in his mouth.

Ben’s right, of course. Werewolf regulations, or lack thereof, aren’t the real problem. But, god dammit, Jack just wishes he had _answers_ for once. They don’t even have to be the ones he’s hoping for or a magical solution. He just needs _something_ explained clearly for once, instead of leaving him with all these frustrated emotions and spiraling thoughts and chasing a dozen mysteries because he’s hoping that just maybe one of them will lead him a little closer to the right direction.

Instead of bellyaching about all of that out loud, he just sighs and says “You’re right,” because it’ll make Ben happy to hear it.

“Obviously,” Ben grins, just like Jack was counting on. “Like, sure, freaky shit keeps happening on our show. Like, a weird amount. The Jazz Corner certainly never got this treatment. But we’re just, you know, the unfortunate middlemen in all this,” He says with a shrug.

Done with spouting wisdom and with his plate, he waves down Isabel. “Hey, Izzy! Round two, on my tab this time because Jack is a _cheapskate.”_ He adds the last part in an exaggerated volume for at least half the diner to hear. He’s doing that thing again where he’s trying to distract Jack from overthinking with dumb arguing. It’s obvious, clumsy, and considerate in a weird way. Jack remembers calling him his friend earlier and Ben agreeing without hesitation.

“ _You_ are a bottomless _pit,”_ Jack counters, opting to take Ben up on it. He can do his own investigating later, with someone who can actually answer his questions. “I don’t even know where you put all of it in such a small frame,” He adds, pushing Ben’s buttons right back.

“Excuse you, I am of _average height,”_ Ben says, crossing his arms and subtly sitting up as tall as he can. Or, he probably thinks he’s being subtle. “And we’re almost the same height anyway! It just seems like a bigger difference because of your hair and… quarterback shoulders, or whatever.”

“There’s no quarterback in rugby,” Jack points out, smiling a little. 

“Whatever, you’re still a meathead,” Ben grumbles, but he can’t keep the smile off his face either.

Isabel exchanges Ben’s empty plate for a full one, reminding Jack that he’s still not finished with his own. He shovels a few bites of cold eggs in his mouth, though for all intents and purposes it tastes like flavorless mush. But he knows that’s completely his fault because Rose’s food is incredible, and can’t bring himself to care anyway. 

“I hold that you can still make up the difference if you actually made going to the gym into a habit,” Jack says in between bites. “You _do_ know that it’s not just a one-and-done thing, right?”

“I know that!” Ben snaps, already on the defensive. “But I _swear_ I’m still sore from before. You had me use that cable thing so much that my arms felt like noodles for a full twenty-four hours!”

“That just means it was working,” Jack replies, hiding a smile behind his mug. “No pain, no gain.”

 _“Never_ be a personal trainer, Jack. You’re not as motivational as you think you are,” Ben warns. Considering that it only took two days to convince Ben to go with him in the first place, he privately thinks otherwise. Or maybe ‘motivating’ and ‘persuading’ are actually two different skills. Like how it’s impossible to _motivate_ Sammy to actually want to get up early, but he can be _persuaded_ by fresh coffee and a little affection. Or, depending on his level of stubbornness for the day, being dumped on the floor.

“Come on, we had fun!” Jack says, remembering from his side how good it felt to just work up a sweat and not have to _think_ about anything. Though, for him, it was just falling back into an old pattern, instead of trying to carve a new groove. To be fair, he also remembers Ben lying on the floor more than once.

“Yeah, maybe fun for _you,”_ Ben counters. “Because for every rep I did you could do twenty and _still_ have enough breath left over to laugh at me!”

“I didn’t _laugh,”_ Jack says empathetically. He’s pretty positive about that at least. “I know that everyone starts somewhere.” Maybe he had to physically pick Ben up a few times and had flashbacks to his starting year, but he had purposefully set Ben on a lighter routine than what he does. Contrary to popular belief, he can be responsible sometimes.

Ben, still chewing a mouthful of pancake, shakes his head rapidly. With his stuffed cheeks and pinched brow, he makes Jack think of an angry chipmunk. “No, no,” Ben says once he’s swallowed. “Not you. I’m totally positive you could wrestle anyone to the ground even as a toddler. But you didn’t because you’re just too _nice,”_ He says the last part like he’s baffled by this, like he’s so sure of Jack’s goodness that he can’t even imagine him being bratty as a kid.

That makes something in Jack’s gut twist, because he’s not _good_ , he’s not _innocent._ But he’s never given Ben a reason to believe otherwise, has he? He doesn’t _want_ to hurt Ben. He’s never _meant_ to hurt anyone.

~~_But he has._ ~~

He swallows the dregs of his coffee and the words down with them. “Actually, it was my sister who was always wrestling other kids to the ground,” He says instead, because he needs to say something true for once. “Including me,” He adds out of fairness.

Ben’s fork is halfway to his mouth again, but he sets it down slowly with a look of dawning horror. “Oh no. You’re telling me there’s _two_ of you?”

Ben hasn’t even met her and he already has a healthy fear. That’s smart. “Lily’s much more terrifying, I promise,” He says seriously. That actually reminds him of a day not long after they all started living together. He only pauses for a moment before saying it outloud. “Once, she almost threw a six-foot tall guy out the window. Wait, uh, there’s a word for that… Defenestration, that’s it. She almost defenestrated a full grown man.”

It hurts the way it always does to talk about Sammy in such vague, impersonal terms. He can’t even say his name. But it’s a dull ache that he’s all too used to. Instead, Jack decides to enjoy the memory and all the warm feelings it brings with it, back when it was just the three of them against the world and they had no idea what they were doing. He doesn’t even remember what started that particular argument - just that the only reason Sammy _wasn’t_ hurled out of their second-story apartment was due to a combination of Jack’s timely intervention and Sammy’s long limbs refusing to bend the right ways. At least she’s mellowed out since then. Somewhat.

He doesn’t know if he has the right to feel this nostalgic when he and Sammy were the ones that broke the promise of _“we’ll always be a team.”_ But right now, he’s doing all he can to avoid breaking another promise, so maybe that makes up for it a bit. He holds back from ghosting his hand over the ring tucked under his shirt.

“Please warn me in advance if she ever comes to visit,” Ben says seriously, dispersing Jack’s sadder thoughts like mist. “I’ll make sure to be in Big Pine by then.”

“Chances are she’ll drop in without telling _me,_ so good luck with that,” Jack says. Lily would always tell them when she was _leaving_ for some far off and possibly dangerous location, but then invite herself to dinner with no warning once she returned. And depending on when her plane got in, that could be anytime between three in the afternoon and three in the morning.

“So, you should go ahead and get prepared,” He adds with a sly smile. “So she doesn’t break you. As in, you should go to the gym with me tomorrow night. Just a helpful suggestion.”

“Ugh, you’re really not giving this up, are you?” Ben groans. He’s managed to finish his second plate, but instead of satisfied he just seems nervous again. Jack shakes his head and tries not to grin too much.

“I’ve never spent so much time with a jock before,” Ben says, finally dropping down to a normal speaking volume. They both tend to get loud when they’re bickering. And he says it like a complaint, but it weirdly lacks the usual annoyance. “The closest I got was this one time in college,” He continues, casual as can be, “When I had this boyfriend who would get up at the crack of dawn every day to go jogging.”

Jack stares. Ben looks away. The noises of the diner fade. Right now, there’s nothing and no one else except for them in this booth. For some reason, the only thing Jack can think of was that time Lily told him _“Oh my god, your gaydar is so shit.”_ That was more than a year before he and Sammy got together.

Jack gently sets his coffee cup down on the table, but the sound makes Ben jump a little and meet his eyes. Jack is reminded of the day at the lake - how Ben had looked so small and scared. More than anything, he doesn’t want Ben to be feeling that way right now. Not with him, and not about this.

He smiles, and if it looks a little forced that’s only because his own heart is thundering in his ears. “Boyfriend?” He repeats carefully. Ben doesn’t correct him immediately, so he goes on before the kid dies from anxiety. “Hey, it’s cool! No worries from me. So, this makes you, uh, bi? Pan? I only ask because I _know_ I’m not imagining the hearts in your eyes whenever you look at Emily.”

Ben doesn’t even deny the Emily comment, that’s how relieved he is. He just gets this huge smile that stretches over his face. Jack finds it easier to return this one. “Bi. I’m, uh, I’m bisexual,” Ben answers, fiddling with his fork and glancing between it and Jack. “S-Sorry for just like. Uh, well, springing that on you. I guess,” He adds in a small voice.

It would be so easy. He could return the favor, say it right now. Something as quick and simple as _‘Hey, I’m gay’_ or _‘I like guys, too.’_ Ben would be much less nervous - _delighted,_ probably - knowing that Jack is like him. Ron’s words about bravery ring in his ears, and he wants so badly to be brave like Ben.

But the words clog in his throat and the old fear, usually dull and tiresome, constricts so sharply around his chest that he can’t breathe. He’s only ever been out to Sammy, Lily, and his parents, and each of those times had been hard in their own way. For most of the time he’s known he’s barely ever _thought_ about coming out to any of his friends, much less his coworkers, or anyone else he sees every day - and Ben is all of those things. He knows now that Ben wouldn’t hate him, wouldn’t judge him. He wouldn’t _tell-_

But what if he did?

Jack and Sammy had discussed going public after they got engaged. It was kind of terrifying, but they were so happy and in love that, for once, they almost felt invincible. They were really going to do it. They were going to be out and proud and love each other for anyone to see. They were in a big city where they could be mostly anonymous, where they had Lily for support, where they had enough experience to get new jobs if it came to that, where they had eachother. They felt safe enough. They felt ready.

But this is a small town. Lily is many miles and many hours away at best. Jack is horribly alone. All he has to go on about the level of tolerance here is Ron’s comment. And he’s established in the local community - Jack is not. He’s been here for all of six weeks. He could lose the job that keeps him here. And even if he’s not run out of town outright, he could be ostracized and ignored and never get anywhere with his search. These are the only people in the world that could possibly help him and keep him from losing Sammy forever.

Right now, Jack is scared of a lot of things - newer and frankly bigger fears than he ever had about losing his career or friends back home. With what he’s facing now, he can keep holding onto this old fear for a little longer. He can’t risk messing up something this big and important. He’s made enough bad choices already.

So, he won’t say anything. Not right now. He’ll keep up the delicate balancing act he has going. He’ll show Ben all the love and support he deserves. He’s pretty sure he can’t mess _that_ up, at least.

“Don’t be sorry,” Jack says sincerely. “I’m really happy you told me. And it’s never like there’s a ‘perfect time’, right?”

“Y-yeah, that’s true,” Ben replies, relaxing a little more. “I’ve only come out to my mom and Troy, and both of those were a lot more serious. But, well-”

“We’re pretty much never serious,” Jack finishes for him.

“Exactly!” Ben says, poking his fork in Jack’s direction.

There’s a short pause while they both collect their thoughts, Ben coming down from a stress high and Jack bracing himself against the rising tide of guilt.

“... Why me?” Jack asks eventually, soft and curious. “I know we’re friends, but we haven’t even known eachother that long.” And if he’s only out to his mother and childhood friend, it seems to be something that he doesn’t say lightly.

“Well, uh, yo-you said it,” Ben starts, his smile soft and awkward. “You’re my friend. We work really well on the show together - you help me out with stuff even when I didn’t ask and made me a host even when I didn’t want to be, and all that’s turned out better than I could’ve hoped. Everything’s actually been going pretty good - despite some, uh, circumstances, obviously,” He amends, the term encompassing everything from Tim’s disappearance to the unnamed body to the conflict with Grisham. “And I’d like us to be - uh, better friends, I guess? I dunno, this seemed like a good step toward that,” He finishes, turning a little pink.

Jack’s narrow focus means he hasn’t really been trying to build a life here, has just been along for the ride at best, but he had always assumed Ben had plenty people and things to do outside of him and the station. But with the way he’s talking, like being treated amicably and like an equal isn’t something that happens often to him, Jack is less sure. And nothing he’s said is wrong - when something disastrous isn’t happening, things are remarkably easy and fun between them. He often wonders if he wouldn’t have been driven back to insanity within a couple weeks without Ben consistently being there. Stable, lighthearted. Untainted.

Maybe… he can start repaying that, and this trust Ben’s given him, with a little more heart. Maybe he can eventually find it in himself to take that step, too. He’ll try. Because despite the darkness looming over his life and always watching over his shoulder, when he looks at Ben he can’t see anything but bright. Part of him wants to keep far away from it, but that’s only a part.

“I appreciate it,” Jack says, interjecting as much sincerity as he can into the statement. Ben relaxes just a touch more and it feels good to be doing something right. “And, to be clear, you’re not out to anyone besides me, Troy, and your mom, right?” He asks, so he’s sure not to mess it up.

“Um, yeah. That’s right,” Ben confirms. He goes quiet for a moment, frowns a little and shifts in his seat. When he continues, he keeps his tone is light but Jack can hear the frustration underneath. “I mean, I love King Falls and all, but it’s not perfect. There’s assholes and the conservative Christians and just, like, _awful_ gossip. Everyone’s nose is in everyone else’s business and just… I know who I am and I let the people that matter know, and that’s all I need.”

“... Yeah,” Jack replies, searching for something to say that doesn’t reveal too much but coming up blank. _‘I get it,’_ would sound hollow at best and distasteful at worst. He really wishes there wasn’t a table between them so that he could give Ben a hug. “I’m happy you include me in that,” He ends up saying, offering a smile.

Ben returns it, but honestly he looks about done with talking about feelings for now. He gets it - Sammy usually gets the same way, it’s practically an allergy. So, Jack tries out the same distraction tactic Ben keeps employing on him.

“Alright, consider our friendship leveled up,” Jack says, which makes Ben scoff but smile a little wider. “And you know what would be a _great_ bro-bonding activity? Doing some lifts!” He suggests, bringing them right back around to their squabble.

Ben does his best approximation of a dry look, but it’s clear he’s trying not to laugh. They stare off for a moment, but Ben finally gives in with a dramatic groan. “Ugh, _fine!_ You’d probably resort to throwing me over your shoulder and dragging me there anyway.”

“Point Wright,” He says cheekily. Ben just sticks his tongue out at him. “So, tomorrow night, same time as before? We’ll be extra careful with warm-up and cool-down stretches, I promise. You’ll feel noodly for only twelve hours at most.”

“Oh, well, when you put it _that_ way,” Ben gripes, but Jack just waits him out again. It doesn’t take more than a few seconds - he doesn’t even need to break out the puppy-eyes again. “Okay, yeah, sure. That’s fine,” He relents.

Then he raises his hand to wave their waitress over again. “Izzy! Can I get a box of pancake puppies to-go? Please and thanks!” He adds, and she gives him a smile and nod as she stacks their plates and cups before returning to the back.

“Alright, one more quick question for the sake of clarity,” Jack says seriously, and waits for Ben to nod the go-ahead. “Now, I _promise_ I’m not trying to imply anything about you or bi people on the whole,” He continues, watching Ben’s face tighten a little with apprehension, but he doesn’t interrupt. “But in light of this, I have to know: I was joking at the time, but _were_ you actually checking me out?” 

Whatever Ben was expecting, it clearly wasn’t that. His face goes completely red, and he starts sputtering. “Wh-what? You mean, like, when-? Um, I mean-”

“Oh my god,” Jack says, a grin slowly splitting his face. “Were you _really?_ I won’t be creeped out or whatever bullshit, I swear.”

At first, Ben can only manage a few more meaningless noises, slowly going redder. Eventually, he settles on “You- you’re strong, clearly! It’s- I mean, I-I have _eyes!”_

Jack can’t help the laugh that escapes and Ben glares at him murderously for it. “I’m just laughing at your reaction, I promise! I’m flattered, _really,_ " He says with mocking sweetness.

“Sh-shut it!” Ben snaps. “You don’t need an even bigger head!”

“I dunno, I’m pretty sure my _‘quarterback shoulders’_ can handle it,” Jack teases. He gets a sharp kick to the shin for his trouble. Which - yeah, fair.

Isabel saves him from a continued assault with Ben’s box and a check for Jack. As usual, he pays too much in cash for his meal, and Ben’s first plate, letting her keep the change. “Thanks for comin’!” She says brightly. Then, unexpectedly, she adds “And thanks for putting on a good show as always, guys. Makes the early mornin’s before openin’ time way more enjoyable.”

Ben’s not the only one that’s blushing this time. Jack’s still not used to such… genuine _warmth_ from fans, much less people being fans of _him_. In that last regard, Ben is almost certainly in the same boat. Producer by training, host by circumstance, and almost exclusively winging it.

“Glad to hear it,” Jack manages to say, returning her smile.

“Any chance we could get an entertainer’s discount?” Ben asks hopefully. 

Isabel huffs and rolls her eyes. “Get Rose a cheaper ad slot and she might be willin’ to work something out.”

Ben deflates into a pout, knowing that negotiating Merv down is a non-starter. Isabel just laughs good-naturedly and bids them a sweet “Have a nice mornin’!” before returning to her other tables.

They stand up from the booth, Ben with his box in hand and Jack patting his bag to make sure everything feels like it’s there. Once they’re in the parking lot, Jack finally pulls him in for a hug. Ben barely manages to move his box out of the way in time from being squashed between them.

Jack lets him go only a second later. “New friendship level comes with bro-hugs,” He says seriously, making Ben chuckle just like he hoped for. 

“Okay, whatever. I’ll see you at the station,” Ben says, still smiling, and makes his way to his car. And it may just be Jack’s imagination, but he does seem… a little looser, though Jack hadn’t noticed the tension before. 

For a brief, untethered moment, he wants nothing more than to feel that way, too. To call out to him before he drives away and the moment is lost for good. To fulfill the dream he had forgotten about until now - there was just _get Sammy back_ , with no thought to an after.

The slam of Ben’s car door breaks the moment. Instead of moving, Jack just stands there like a total weirdo until Ben’s out of sight. Then he finally drags his feet to his own car and lets his mind go back to planning - calls to make, pages to add, new angles to look at.

Look for information, get answers, make headway. Everything else can wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to MavIsTrying for picking up on Bi!Ben! It’s a strong headcanon of mine and, well, it’s fanfic, so I can do it!
> 
> Just to be clear, Ben does _not_ have a crush on Jack - he’s just easily flustered and it’s a callback to the last chapter. Now that’s not to say he _didn’t_ have a mini crush on Jack for a short time during their first week when he was still starry-eyed and didn’t realize how much of a disaster Jack is. ~~Having a tiny crush on anyone who’s cute and nice to you is gay culture okay?~~
> 
> And I know, it sucks that Jack just didn’t come out right then, but I hope I got across his reasons for not doing so. He’s super paranoid from previous events and in general being out is scary. Give him a little time.
> 
> Next chapter is in the works and, forestalling any other emergencies, _should_ be out on time! Thank you again for your patience and continued readership.


	5. an admission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do you remember that dead body that appeared in Lake Hatchenhaw? Yeah, so does everyone else, and it drags up more controversy than you may expect.
> 
> Featuring the opposite of a slow night and some things coming to light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CW:** mentions of death, non-graphic descriptions of death, mentions of gun violence, mild verbal homophobia
> 
> Alright, so I’m officially giving up any pretense of an update schedule. It was ambitious for me to try in the first place since it’s my first big story, and between my physical and mental health plus my college classes starting this week, I won’t be able to keep it up. But I'll still update, I promise! I love this story too much.
> 
> I rewrote this whole chapter three times before I was happy with it. I _really_ wanted to get it right, okay? And I think I finally did. But doing so produced _a still longer_ chapter at over 12k! I really want to promise that they won’t get any longer than this in the future, but I just don’t know.
> 
> This chapter covers the events of episode 5 "Night of the Living Dread" and, as always, wouldn’t be possible without the stupendous [Night](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OdeToFalling/pseuds/Scarlet-Letter-Mistakes)!

_“Listener discretion is advised,”_ Jack mouths the last part along with the narrator, much to Ben’s chagrin.

Look, Jack gets it. Riling up management is usually the last thing you want to do as a producer. But he knows that getting the truth out there is more important than “playing house”, as Lily had once put it. Not to mention that this has been on Sammy’s bucket list since _forever,_ and yet it’s Jack of all people who beat him to it. He knows Sammy would be stuck between proud and jealous if he knew.

All that said, he can’t help it if he’s smiling a little as the intro finishes playing. “Good evening ladies and gents and everyone else, you’re listening to King Falls AM, 660 on the dial,” He says, the words easy as breathing already. “I’m Jack Wright, your host and producer number one, and I’m here with my number two, Ben Arnold.”

“I never agreed to that ranking,” Ben says, apparently determined to be annoyed by everything Jack does tonight.

“Look, at worst I’m calling you my right-hand man, but I meant it more like a Thing One and Thing Two from Dr. Seuss situation,” He explains. That seems to throw Ben for a loop and Jack grins, because the sooner he can redirect Ben’s annoyance, the better. “Though, I guess we don’t really look anything alike. But if you want to do a Station Twin Day that’d be-”

“Alright, that’s enough of that!” Ben interrupts, flapping his hand in Jack’s direction. “We get it - you’re a _child.”_

“I’ll buy a flannel that matches one of yours, don’t try me,” He warns. Ben wears the same four in rotation, interspersed with the occasional faded summer camp or band tee, so it wouldn’t even be hard to ‘accidentally’ match on any given day. Jack noticed this some time ago, and he takes a brief moment to reflect on how his gaydar _is_ shit if he failed to pick up on things like that.

“We’re a radio show! What’s even the point of that?”

“Twitter selfies.”

“Ugh. I give up on you,” Ben sighs. “Just-just let me read the schedule so we can actually get started.”

“Fine, fine. What was it you called it earlier? ‘Stacked’?” Jack quotes and, right on cue, Ben breaks into a beaming smile.

 _“Totally_ stacked,” He agrees, holding up the schedule with a flourish, the sticky notes fluttering a little. “Later, we’ve got Ms. Emily Potter from the King Falls Public Library, giving us her picks for enlightened summer reading,” He reads from near the bottom of the list.

“Troy better watch out - I think Ben might have a new favorite guest,” Jack teases.

“W-what?” Ben drags out the word and ends in a nervous chuckle. “Well, I mean, I always - _we_ always love talking with her, of course. This-this isn’t a competition or anything, j-just different but equally important public services.” He must catch sight of Jack’s smirk, because then he adds pointedly “Troy, if you’re hearing this, don’t listen to this-this meathead!”

Jack hides a chuckle behind his hand. “With our second disclaimer of the night out of the way, why don’t you continue with what else we have on tap?” He suggests, before they can go off the rails again.

“Right, right!” Ben says, scanning the schedule again. “We, uh, we’ve got some really cool news here - we’re announcing the lineups for the First Annual King Falls Ambient Musical Festival! That’s coming up in the second hour.”

“Imagine my shock and surprise when I heard that this tiny town is having a festival,” Jack says, feigning an astonished tone. “Then, of course, I found out that it’s pretty much live ASMR, and suddenly it seemed just weird enough to fit right in around here.”

“Very funny,” Ben deadpans. “It’s not even that, it’s just, like - hipsters that want to chill out. You know, _setting the mood,”_ He says, dropping his voice down a pitch and gliding a hand in front of him for effect. It’s almost like he’s introducing a piece back on ‘Chet Sebastian’s Jazz Corner’, though Jack decidedly wants to get his brain away from any kind of ‘mood’ that implies.

“So, it sounds like pretty much the opposite of all the concerts I’ve ever been to,” Jack says succinctly. He wonders if it’d be something Sammy would enjoy, hipster that he is, though he’d probably deny it until he got there. But that also gives Jack a great idea.

“We should go, Ben!” He says, so suddenly it makes Ben jump a little. “We can help them make it to a Second Annual.” He _did_ promise himself he’d try to make more of an effort with Ben, since that huge gesture of trust that one morning in Rose’s. Doing something that’s not after-work breakfast that is purely for fun feels like the right move.

“R-really?” Ben asks, looking honestly surprised. “I, um - yeah! Yeah, sure! That sounds great!” He says excitedly, and Jack _knows_ it’s the right move.

It’s also started to feel less like throwing the kid a bone, and more - well, like Jack honestly wants Ben to like _him,_ too. He’s already a friend, yes, but what Ben doesn’t realize is that he very literally keeps Jack sane by just being there for him. And Jack suspects it’s more than the constant proximity, but that they genuinely vibe well on some level. 

After a couple weeks of losing hours to debate with himself over this, he’s even decided to tell him about Sammy. Not everything that happened, of course - God, that would both drive him away from Jack and put him in danger in one fell swoop. But… some things. Ben could be of help. Ben would probably _want_ to be of help. And it might be against his better judgment, but maybe Jack could use a little help.

He already has a conversation starter set up. Now it’s just a matter of time.

“It’s a Bros Night,” Jack says, returning Ben’s smile with his own. “Now, what else?”

Jack feels a little bad, getting Ben off track over and over again, but he jumps back to attention quickly. “Well, um, to open the show we-we’ve got the… the - um… the…” Ben slowly trails off, his megawatt excitement dimming rapidly.

“Uh, Ben? Speak up, the mic’s not catching it,” Jack tells him, leaning forward as if that’ll help him hear better.

Ben shakes his head and sets the schedule down without finishing the sentence. “You know… maybe- maybe we should start it with, uh, callers first. Yeah! Just, uh, give us a call at-”

“What? No, no,” Jack interrupts, giving Ben a look of confusion. “Hold your phones, everyone, because our first guest will be calling any second now. Here, I’ll give the intro if you want. First up, ladies and gents and everyone else, we have-”

Ben immediately starts speaking over him. “That number is 424-279-3858, or you can tweet us at-”

“Ben!” Jack cuts him off, again. “C’mon, we talked about this. It’s a _big. Scoop._ Big city, serious journalism worthy,” He says slowly. This must’ve been the fifth time he’s repeated that, ever since he put the guest on the list.

Ben makes a noise between a sigh and a groan. “I know! I know, Jack, and I-I’m sorry. It’s just- I’m-I’m not feelin’ the best here, alright?” He says, looking - oh. This is diving into unfortunately familiar territory, and it just gets worse as Ben goes on. “My stomach is all… knotted up, just thinking about this. I-I think it might actually be an ulcer. It tastes like _fear_ and feels like _cancer.”_

Jack stops him before he can work himself up more. “Alright, alright. I get it. Deep breaths. In four, hold two, out five,” He suggests. There’s a beat where Ben looks at him skeptically, but after Jack starts to exaggeratedly demonstrate he relents and follows along. “Just - steady, stay steady now,” He says gently as Ben does the counts a few times.

“Look,” Jack starts, once Ben looks less like he’s going to throw up live on air (they did make a promise to Ron, after all - or Ben did at least), “I know that this is just extra stress on top of the disclaimer and everything, but we’ll be fine. You hear me? _Fine,”_ He says firmly, but not patronizingly - he hopes. It’s been a while since he’s had to do this.

Nights in their bedroom, or bathrooms at parties, or the studio’s broom closet, or the car pulled over on the side of the highway, all come back to him at once. Jack’s not even sure if this is a full-blown anxiety attack, but as his friend and the one making him go through this stress, he’s obligated to try and talk him through the fear.

“This is reporting on something that is public record as of earlier today - we’re not doing anything wrong, or even going to try and purposefully skew it. I swear!” Jack insists when Ben looks doubtful at the last part. “But we can’t ignore what happened on our airwaves before - what’s done is done about that - and it’d be unprofessional not to do a proper follow-up on it now and get all our facts in order. Rule One, right?” He adds, smiling when Ben rolls his eyes. “No undue bashing. Until it’s due, of course.”

 _“If_ it’s due,” Ben corrects, thankfully looking much calmer than before.

“Sure, okay, ‘if’,” Jack allows. He gives him a small smile, which Ben tentatively returns. Then, a sharp ringing breaks into their little moment. “Ah - hear that? That’s the hotline, right on cue,” He says cheerily, though he makes no move to pick it up just yet, still watching Ben carefully.

Ben takes a deep breath, apparently trying to steady himself. “Okay, okay. Yeah. Let’s - yeah, let’s answer. We… are news. We’re the news. There’s news to make… news.” A bit of a lame note to finish his little self-pep-talk off on, but it seems to work. Ben reaches for the hotline without any prompting from Jack, who has to squash a small swell of pride at the sight. “Okay, um, here we go. Welcome to King Falls AM, you’re on the air.”

“Good evening,” Greets a dry, slow voice. “This is Dr. Jeffrey Rosenblum with the King Falls County Coroner’s office.”

Jack definitely sees why he doesn’t work the front like Joseph. “Thank you for speaking with us tonight, Dr. Rosenblum,” He says politely.

 _“Excited_ to be here, Jack. _Ecstatic,_ even,” Dr. Rosenblum says, with the strangest inflection Jack’s ever heard - it’s almost like they’re speaking to a robot trying to recreate human tone but with really limited processing. “We listen to your show on slow nights.”

“Well, I should _hope_ that most nights are slow there,” Jack says before he can stop himself.

 _“Jack!”_ Ben hisses, because apparently jokes about apparitions are allowed but not the county mortality rate. Which - okay, fair.

“Alright!” He relents immediately, holding his hands up in surrender. “Regardless, we appreciate it,” He says, back to addressing Dr. Rosenblum. “Now, you were the overseeing physician working on the body pulled out of Lake Hatchenhaw, correct?”

“Yes, _irrefutably,”_ He answers, still in a tone that Jack would call ‘lifeless’ if he wanted to be kicked in the shin. “I appreciate you restating facts for the benefit of your listeners, even though I’m sure Joe has already told you this… and more.”

Ben shoots Jack a questioning look. “Joe? Wait, who’s Joe?”

Jack scrambles for an answer that isn’t an outright lie, but doesn’t throw either him or Joseph under the bus. Sammy’s always been better at avoiding topics, yet here Jack is as the one trying to juggle way too many secrets. “A fellow cryptid fan, but that’s not relevant,” He says flippantly, barreling on before Ben can ask anything else. “Anyways, Doctor, your official report was released at what is now considered yesterday morning, but not _once_ all day has any news outlet reported on it.”

“You are correct. Bust news day, one would assume.” Jack can’t even tell if that was meant to be sarcastic or not.

“W-wait, really? _No one?”_ Ben repeats, suddenly looking nervous again. Where Jack takes the apparent taboo as a challenge, Ben takes it as a danger warning.

Jack will just have to try another approach and appeal to Ben’s own… biases. “Yep,” He says cheerfully. “We’ll be the first - even before Channel 13!”

The change is instantaneous. Ben’s eyes narrow and he sits up straight, leaning closer to the mic and soundboard. “Alright, doc, lay it on us - what happened when you cracked open the mystery body?” He asks - no, _interrogates._ But the new attitude slips away a little as Ben continues. “Was there… there wasn’t any evidence that Kingsy did it, right?”

“There was no evidence that a creature, large or small, had anything to do with the deceased.”

Ben slumps back with relief. “Phew. That’s - I knew Kingsy didn’t have it in her.”

“Excellent,” Jack says, though he hadn’t been worried about that. He would’ve noticed huge bite marks in those pictures. But, of course, there had to be things he definitely didn’t notice that a medical professional would, which is why they’re here. “Now, was there any sign of foul play involved?”

“During our first autopsy, we were not able to distinguish with certainty the cause of death. But there were no signs of foul play.”

“Wait - _first_ autopsy?” Jack repeats, glancing at Ben to make sure he heard right.

Apparently, he had. “Is that normal?” Ben asks doubtfully. “Did you find the cause of death during the… _second_ autopsy?”

 _“Indeed,”_ Dr. Rosenblum answers, to their surprise. “It was six individual gunshot wounds to the victims head. Three shots to the temporal lobe, two to the medulla oblongata, and one to the frontal lobe.”

 _“Six,”_ Jack repeats for emphasis. “Six… gunshot wounds. How- how do you miss something like that?” He asks, as much to the doctor as himself. The body’s face had been grey and distorted, but definitely free of holes, he’s positive. “I mean, the-the first time?” He adds for clarification.

“And how is that _not_ foul play?!” Ben asks the arguably more important question. “That’s _definitely_ murder.”

“With respect, Jack, we did not ‘miss’ the bullet wounds during the first autopsy.” Jack doesn’t know if he’s meant to take that as a reprimand or just polite clarification. “They were not there. And so, there was no evidence of foul play.”

 _“Wait a second,”_ Jack and Ben say at the same time.

Automatically, Jack knocks twice on the table. “Jinx,” He says, to which Ben shoots him a glare. But, too bad, he now owes Jack a coffee from Rose’s by the rules of their agreement.

“Yes?” Dr. Rosenblum asks after a pause.

Jack takes it upon himself to backtrack and follow the facts to their natural conclusion. “Okay, so - something happened between the first and second autopsy that made it end up with six bullet wounds. Why- why would someone shoot a _corpse?”_ He asks, because that’s the missing piece.

“Unless… it was to cover up the actual cause of death, but that would be sloppy to do it then since it was after the body had already been found and examined,” Jack mutters to himself. “Or, unless…” He pauses, not to be intentionally dramatic but because it feels like an outlandish theory, even for him. “Unless the John Doe needed to be killed a second time,” He finishes, and he sees Ben’s eyes widen.

“The gunshots were self-defense, administered via Deputy Kriegshauser at my behest,” Dr. Rosenblum answers, all but confirming Jack’s second theory.

Ben shakes himself out of his surprise first. “I’m getting Troy on the line,” He says, already messing with the dials.

“Okay, good. We’ll - we’ll get right back to this in just a moment,” Jack says, because as much as he wants to keep riding this train of thought, the clock’s telling him there are bills to pay. “But if you don’t mind, Doctor, we need to take a quick break to hear from one of our sponsors.”

“That’s just… _dandy,”_ Dr. Rosenblum answers, and Jack’s completely given up on deciphering his speech pattern. He just hits the button to take them to break.

Ben’s anxiously tapping the table as he waits for Troy to pick up, so Jack’s left to stew. 

‘Self-defense’ - does that mean the body got up and _attacked_ the doctor, or Troy? Was it - no, it was definitely dead in the first place, Jack had seen that for himself clear as day. But what would cause it to get up again? Necromancy? Zombie virus? Witch curse? Was _that_ why Troy was driving toward the Coroner’s Office just as Jack was leaving? Did this happen fifty feet away from him and he hadn’t even noticed? Had he just barely escaped being zombie chow? That’s definitely not how he pictured the apocalypse happening, and what a sucky way for him to go.

The transition music breaks Jack out of his spiral and he does his best to reorient himself quickly. “Welcome back to King Falls AM. If you’re just tuning in, we’re here talking with King Falls County Coroner Dr. Jeffrey Rosenblum.”

“A _pleasure.”_

“Did you manage to get to Troy?” Jack asks, to which Ben shakes his head.

“He’s booking one of the Williams Boys for mooning. He’ll call us in a few,” Ben answers. Jack is starting to get used to hearing about their antics, though he hasn’t run into either of them in person yet. Everything he hears, though, just confirms that Troy has the patience of a saint.

They can at least go ahead and start getting the real story out there. “Doctor, do you mind giving us the play-by-play of what happened between the first and second autopsies?” Jack asks. 

“Of course. As I was finishing up the initial post-mortem, it came to my attention that the deceased began to emit a _hissing_ sound, fluctuating between the lower thorax and the larynx.”

“Oh my God,” Ben breathes, a little shocked and a little squeamish.

“I called for Deputy Kriegshauser and he entered, as I wanted someone else to see this _phenomenon._ That’s when the John Doe began a slight… _thrashing_ about the upper torso.”

“Um, are you saying-” Ben starts, but Dr. Rosenblum continues as if he didn’t hear him.

“The deputy began to fumble for his sidearm while we both discerned that something was wildly… _amiss._ The deceased opened its eyes and instantly grabbed for the lapel of my lab coat, with voracious tenacity.”

“Wha- uh, go on,” Ben encourages needlessly. The doctor seems to be in _the zone_ for telling his ghost story.

“It gnashed its teeth as I emitted a terrified, albeit high pitched, scream.” At least he’s honest? “And that’s when Troy unholstered his sidearm and administered six lethal shots to the reanimated corpses cranium.”

 _“A zombie?”_ Jack and Ben ask as one, but this time Ben knocks on wood first.

“Jinx!” Ben says triumphantly.

“Really? Now?” Jack sighs, but he’s already given up on getting his free coffee. 

_“Yes,_ now. Also, we’ve got Troy on the line,” Ben adds.

Distantly, they can hear Troy’s voice, presumably addressing whatever Williams boy was causing a ruckus. “I don’t _care_ if you was only joshin’! You can’t show your G.D. derriere out in public!” Then, much closer and warmer, he speaks directly to them. “Hey, boys, what’s goin’ on tonight?”

“You tell _us,_ Troy!” Jack returns. “We’ve got Dr. Rosenblum on the line here and-”

“Is this about the zombie?” Troy interrupts, catching on quick.

“Yes!” Ben exclaims, and if Jack didn’t know better he’d say Ben sounds excited. “So- so you’re _confirming_ this story, Troy?”

“Hell yeah, I’m confirmin’! I had to do three hours of damn paperwork for unloadin’ my pistola into a corpse! Sheriff Gunderson was _not_ the happiest of campers…”

“This is _amazing!_ This is _unprecedented,”_ Ben says empathetically, apparently really committed to the whole idea of ‘get one over on Channel 13’.

“Well, there _was_ that one time at the mall in the 80s,” Jack says, recalling one of a great many articles he had gone through on the microfilms. “Not the exact same symptoms with the hissing and all, but was a case of apparent _reanimation_ that had to be quarantined there.”

“Oh! Yeah, I remember hearing about that,” Ben replies, though he doesn’t look discouraged. _“Still,_ that’s almost a thirty-year gap!”

“I assure you that it is a first in my time in this profession. Wowzers.” Seriously, Jack has half a mind to give him the Turing Test, though that’d undoubtedly be rude.

“Honest Ingun, boys. I capped the all _get out_ of that thing! It had the doc by the face, ‘bout to start chewin’!”

“You’re my hero, Deputy Troy,” Dr. Rosenblum says in his usual monotone.

“Shucks, wasn’t nothin’ special,” Troy chuckles, wonderfully humble and apparently ready to take anything the doctor says as genuine. Which, honestly, is probably easier than trying to parse out any instances of sarcasm anyways.

“But you didn’t even save it for study!” Ben complains.

“Sorry, Ben, but I’ve gotta agree that was the right call,” Jack says, ignoring Ben’s disappointed look. “We don’t need King Falls being Ground Zero for the apocalypse.”

“About that,” Dr. Rosenblum cuts in, and Jack barely resists the urge to facepalm right then. “I don’t want to cause an uproar here. But since that examinee, there have been… _other_ cases.”

“Of freakin’ zombies?!” Ben asks, almost bouncing in his seat.

“Of reanimation among corpses… yes.”

“Doc, you just give me a call if you need,” Troy says sincerely. “I’m more than happy to go Clint Eastwood if the situation arises.”

“Will do, Deputy. Thank you so much for your _assistance._ Without you, there may not have been this _interview.”_

“To protect and serve!”

“Thanks for this… we’ll call it a PSA, Dr. Rosenblum,” Jack says. “You and the other folks down at the morgue stay safe. And for everyone listening - just keep an ear out for hissing sounds, I guess. Remember that there’s no shame in running.”

“As they say, ‘you got it… _dude’.”_ Dr. Rosenblum says, then hangs up.

On the other line, they hear a police siren whine. “Ah hell, boys! I gotta go. I’ll call you back later tonight. One of the Williams boys is tryin’ to saw through the bars outside the jailhouse,” Troy says, then apparently steps away and turning on his megaphone. “Jacob Williams, put your hands _up_ and the file _down.”_ Ben takes the liberty of cutting him off.

“Alright King Falls, you’ve heard our story, let’s hear yours,” Ben says. “Have you or anyone you know experienced _anything_ like what the doctor spoke of? Reanimation? The walking-”

“Watch the copyright,” Jack interrupts.

“Well - you all know what I mean,” Ben amends. “Give us a call or tweet us!”

“Is it a good or bad thing that the board’s lighting up?” Jack asks, eyeing the full array of blinking lights.

“Should we be finding a basement to hide in?” Ben questions, looking ready to bolt if Jack says ‘go’.

“Well, remember that this happened _a month ago,”_ Jack reasons. “If we’re not overrun by now, it’s probably fine.”

“... Line 1, Jack,” Ben says, punching the button.

“Welcome to King Falls AM, you’re live with Jack and Ben,” He greets.

“Good evening, Jack,” says a flat feminine voice. “Please hold for Mayor Grisham.”

Jack barely holds in an irritated sigh, but Ben’s gone pale. “What now?” Jack groans.

“He… probably just wants us to mark these tapes as evidence. Right, Jack?” Ben asks weakly.

“Or confiscate them and give us a gag order as the cherry on top,” Jack answers bitterly.

“Jack Wright, Mayor Grisham,” the voice informs them.

“Grisham,” Jack says by way of greeting, taking the lead since Ben looks ready to faint out of his chair.

“Jack. Ben.” Grisham returns.

“You’re live. What do you have to say?” Jack asks.

“Take me off and go to break. We need to chat.” Grisham may have mastered the art of giving orders in a lax tone, but Jack has learned passive aggressiveness from the best.

“I’m afraid we’re not scheduled for another break for at least another ten minutes,” He replies. “Say whatever it is for _everyone_ to hear.”

 _“Ben,_ Grisham growls, making his friend jump. “Cut. To. Commercial.”

Jack and Ben lock eyes for a beat. Jack gives a slow shake of his head. Ben takes a moment to breathe in and out in the exact way Jack had coached him through earlier.

“Uh, well. The-the thing is… I-I can’t do that. Sir,” Ben says steadily, and - yeah, okay, Jack’s allowed to feel proud of him right now.

“You boys want to talk live on air? We can talk _live on air,”_ Grisham says, composure cracking just a bit more. Point to them in this game of ruffling feathers.

“Is this about how we missed the memo to all the outlets and news stations about how we were _not_ to inform the public about a dangerous public safety hazard? Because I’m afraid it’s a bit too late for that,” Jack says, not even able to keep up the false cheer all the way through.

“Yes, I’ve read the transcripts, _Jack,”_ Grisham says, spitting his name like that’s going to intimidate him.

“Are we special, in that regard? Do you take time out of your busy schedule to read through every media report in town, or just the ones that you don’t have heavy influence over?” Jack fires back.

“What are you _insinuating?”_ Grisham asks through gritted teeth.

“Oh, I’m just thinking out loud. Theorizing. Refer to your reading and you’ll see that I do that a lot,” Jack says, knowing he’s being cheeky but not caring. He’s on a _roll._ “It just seems like a lot of trouble to go through, unless you have a _really_ good reason for controlling public perception of events, thereby taking away _our_ right of free speech and everyone else’s right to be informed, especially of potential danger. No matter how inconvenient that may be for you personally, don’t you have a duty as a public servant, first and foremost?”

There’s a moment of silence, but Jack knows better than to think he won that easily. “And yet _you_ are running around and sticking your nose in places it shouldn’t be, which is well outside of your _duty_ of observing and informing,” Grisham seethes.

Jack freezes. A ball of lead sinks heavy in his gut. “Grisham- _Mayor,”_ He tries, but he’s already stepped into the bear trap.

“Not only have _weirdly exciting_ events been coinciding with your little late-night talk show in particular, but it seems that even in your off time you go out of your way to find out about even _more_ weird things. It just seems like _a lot of trouble to go through,_ unless you have a _fantastically_ good reason for requesting police records of case that’s a half-century old and _long_ since closed.”

“You’ve been holding back my request,” Jack realizes. The Fletcher case was supposed to be his biggest lead yet, apparition-divined and all, but he’s been stalled for _weeks_ from getting any more information on it. God, he should’ve known the wheels of bureaucracy don’t turn _that_ slow, especially in little King Falls. “You-!” He starts, then stops. Takes a breath, refocuses. Ben’s eyeing him warily.

Point Grisham, it seems.

“You have no right to do so when I’ve gone through all the necessary channels,” Jack says as evenly as he can manage. “And I’m sure I don’t want to know what _you’re_ insinuating right now. That I’m - what? Digging for new material, to stage kidnappings and killings? That’s utterly ridiculous.” _‘I’m not a monster,_ He doesn’t add, because that’s not true. But he won’t go out of his way to hurt anyone else, that’s for sure.

_~~Not that he ever needed to do anything special to **destroy-**~~ _

“I’m simply _theorizing_ based on facts,” Grisham replies smugly. “I’m sure your ratings have gone _way_ up alongside these _sensational_ events. You can’t blame me for wondering why that is.”

“We don’t _sensationalize_ anything,” Jack bites. “And _you_ don’t get to invalidate the horrible experiences of other people like this.”

“I’ve tried to be nice about this,” Grisham says, as if he’s the one being picked on here. “And I tried to be _civil,_ but it’s you troublemakers that keep making it worse! As _unlikely_ as it seems, you all have an audience at this god-awful hour, and you would do well to stop making things _worse_ for them.”

“I repeat that you should have a little _respect_ for your constituents and what they can and cannot handle for themselves. And respect for _us_ as an independent news outlet that does not have to bend to your will,” Jack says firmly.

“My _will_ as a public servant is for you to not _lie_ to the good people of King Falls!” Grisham shouts, and Jack has a good time picturing his wrinkly face blotching with red.

Point Jack.

“Come back when you have actual evidence,” Jack says tersely, then dumps Grisham’s line. The line almost immediately lights up again, but Jack wipes it without bothering.

Ben’s been silent through most of that exchange. When Jack finally looks at him again, he’s not sure he likes the expression on his friend’s face. It’s pinched and worried and… a little suspicious.

“... What was that all about, Jack?” Ben asks carefully, but doesn’t give him a chance to reply. “I-I mean I know there’s never been any love between you and Mayor Grisham, but that was… kind of vicious. And-and what was that about _police records?”_

“It… has to do with my research,” Jack answers slowly, well aware that they’re still on the air. “I’ll- I’ll tell you some about it later. Just trust me here.”

“No, not later! Now!” Ben says, with enough force to surprise Jack. “Jack, I-I _want_ to trust you, I’ve _been_ trying to trust you, but you don’t seem to trust _me!”_ Jack can hear the hurt there, the _‘I opened up to you and this is how you treat me’,_ and it stings because this isn’t what he meant to happen. He knows he’s been… more or less blatantly suspicious, showing up out of nowhere and poking around and never answering _why._ Apparently he had made the mistake of assuming Ben didn’t notice, or at least didn’t mind.

“You-you're just keeping secrets and leaving me out of the loop! I thought we were getting closer, but you still won’t tell me _anything_ about your mysterious ‘research’ at the library, and now there’s whoever ‘Joe’ is and you investigating old cases - what’re you, some weird private eye?” Ben’s well into rant mode right now, and as much as Jack tries to cut in he can’t. 

“For god’s sake, you didn’t even tell me when the hell you got _engaged!”_ Ben all but shouts, and the bottom drops out of Jack’s stomach.

Time freezes. One of Ben’s arms is extended, his finger pointing accusingly at the ring on Jack’s left hand.

This is _not_ how this was supposed to go.

Every time he had tried to get the words out about Sammy, they just wouldn’t come. No matter how many times he rehearsed, the words would clog his throat and choke him off and no amount of logical reasoning that telling Ben would be _okay,_ that he wouldn’t mind and he’d be happy and stay friends with Jack and he could finally stop hiding, would help force them out.

He decided he was tired of hiding. From anyone. From _everyone._ About this, at least, this basic part of his identity and the key to his heart and soul.

It had felt both underwhelming and like a great ceremony to remove the engagement ring from its chain and _finally_ place it on his ring finger, where it was always meant to be. And then it had been a simple matter of time, waiting for Ben to ask.

It would be easy. Casual, like how Ben did it with him. They would be sitting over paperwork in their shared office, or pancakes in their usual booth at Rose’s.

 _‘Who’s the lucky girl?’_ Ben would ask.

 _‘Guy, actually,’_ Jack would reply.

And then he would get to freely talk about the love of his life and his mission to get him back and Ben would finally understand. Then Jack could have the strength to tell _anyone_ else who would ask. Like Troy or Mary or Emily. And he would no longer be alone, though maybe that’s what he deserves. It would eventually get out to the whole town, trickle out in gossip and murmurs, but he’d have time to acclimate.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this, live on the air for everyone to hear at once, thrown into boiling water without a chance to dip his toe in. But he should’ve known, with his shit luck.

Time unfreezes. Ben’s still on a roll.

“You just showed up the other day, wearing a ring, and I kept meaning to ask - but like, you could’ve told me! I would’ve been - I mean I _am_ happy for you, but I don’t even know who it could be! When did you even get a secret girlfriend anyways? You’re always either with me, or at the library with-” Ben pauses, anger simmering down as his eyes go wide. “Wait, crap. It’s-it’s not Emily, is it? Bro, _please,_ you wouldn’t do that to me, right?” He asks desperately.

That, at last, is enough to unstick Jack’s mouth. “What?! No! No, it’s not Emily!” He denies, trying not to roll his eyes when Ben sags with relief. “This happened _way_ before King Falls! And-and it’s not even a girl!”

Well… there it is.

It’s Ben’s turn to freeze, mouth hanging open. Jack does his best not to look away. 

“You mean-”

“Sammy,” Jack interrupts, because the name has been trying to break out of his chest and be heard for _so long_ and he can’t go another second without saying it. After that, the words don’t stop coming. “His name is Sammy. He’s my fiancé. I’m in desperate, foolish love with a man who swept me off my feet ran away with me to achieve our dreams. Have been for years now.”

Ben still hasn’t moved, but Jack can see the lingering confusion and hurt on his face. So, he keeps talking. “I… should’ve told you sooner. I’m sorry. I was just - scared, honestly.” He still _is_ scared, but he had already decided that the fear of losing Sammy forever is greater than anything this town could throw at him out of blind hate and ignorance.

“Neither he or I have ever been out before, for the sake of our careers,” Jack continues, the simpler part of the answer to _‘why?’_ “There weren’t even openly gay radio personalities back in the big city, and with moving here to this small town it felt even more like a gamble.”

To his astonishment, Ben relaxes and smiles oh-so-gently at him, not even a hint of betrayal left. It warms a little of what’s left of Jack’s heart. “Yeah, dude. I… I get it. _I’m_ sorry for… yelling like that,” Ben says, though Jack can read between the lines and see _‘kinda sorta forcing you out like that.’_ “You’re still my friend, don’t even worry- _oof!”_

Jack’s always been a touchy person, and today’s no different. He cuts Ben off with a hug, abandoning his headphones and chair to wrap himself around his friend, trying to communicate everything he can’t on air through the tight squeeze of his arms.

He feels more than hears Ben laugh and hug him back around his shoulders. “Bro-hug it out, dude. I got you,” Ben assures.

Jack goes back to his seat a moment later, because like it or not they still have a show to do. The glowing On Air sign is just a lovely reminder of their situation. He slips his headphones back on, and he and Ben take a moment just to smile at eachother now that that’s finally out in the open.

“We-we can talk later,” Ben says, generously trying to give him an out. But Jack shakes his head with a grimace.

“Well, according to the phone lines, we’re talking about it _now,”_ He says, pointing to the board, which is lit up like a Christmas tree.

“We don’t have to take calls,” Ben insists, though it’s completely counterproductive to how a talk show is supposed to work. He must know this, but he’s still trying to stand by Jack. He even glares at the board, as if trying to intimidate the lights into going out, and Jack really and truly knows that Ben has his back in this. It’s… kind of a really empowering feeling, if he can dig past the heavy dread.

“It’s fine,” Jack says, giving Ben a confident smile that he may not fully feel just yet. But he’s trying. “I’d rather go ahead and get some of this out of the way before the rumor mill starts turning on its own.”

“... If you’re sure,” Ben says, to which Jack nods. “Fine, okay,” He sighs. “But I’m warning everyone right now that I have my finger on the dump button, and I am _not_ afraid to use it! We don’t tolerate caller harassment here on King Falls, and this is no exception!” True to his word, he hovers with his left pointer finger over the dump button and the right in its usual place over the bleeper. Stubbornly unwilling to move from this self-appointed post, he asks Jack to pick a line.

Jack does his best to give him an encouraging smile, but he knows his heart isn’t in it. He selects one at random. “Line 4, you’re live on King Falls AM,” He greets. Miracle of miracles, it seems his luck is finally taking a turn - if the high-pitched yipping in the background of the call is anything to go by, that is.

“Jackson Wright, I cannot _believe_ you’ve been leading me on! Didn’t your mama raise you better than that?” Archie asks, sounding honestly miffed.

“Sorry, Archie,” Jack says, grinning and probably not sounding sorry at all. “I swear I didn’t mean anything by it. But, rest assured, there’s only one man out there for me.”

“Ugh, fine,” Archie sighs. “As long as I can keep lookin’ at the menu, I guess I won’t try orderin’.”

Jack flushes and gives Ben a kick under the table when he starts sniggering. “That’s much appreciated,” He tells Archie, for lack of a better response.

“Now, where _is_ this man of yours?” Archie asks the one question that’s the hardest to answer. “He’s not still back in the big city, is he?”

Ben looks at him and Jack knows he’s wondering the same thing. He has carefully thought over his words and exactly how much is safe to say. But, now, in the moment, even _thinking_ about what he did to Sammy is enough to make him want to run out the door and hide his face from the world. As it is, he just sits there and tries to breathe through the tightness in his chest.

He can’t avoid this, but he also can’t explain in full. He knows Ben wouldn’t look at him so fondly if he did.

“No, he’s not there,” Jack starts slowly, forcing the words past the lump in his throat. “I honestly don’t know where he is,” He adds quietly. Neither of them interrupt and simply wait for him to continue, though Ben is looking more worried.

“Sammy’s missing,” He says, the words dropping from his mouth like balls of lead. “He was taken, earlier this year. It-it wasn’t UFOs or rainbow lights, it wasn’t like Tim, exactly,” because Tim was an accident, a random bystander, not someone exposed and twisted- “But whatever took him wasn’t of this world. All the evidence points to it a supernatural entity that resides here in King Falls, or at least something here leads to it. No one - not my sister or the police - understood that. They told me I was crazy and to give it up. To… give up on him.”

“Well, that’s a load of horseshit,” Archie cuts in, and it’s purely by Ben’s reflexes that he gets censored.

Jack gets the bizarre urge to laugh but swallows it down. “Yeah, I know. But not everywhere is like King Falls,” He says, a little ruefully. He risks a look at Ben’s face and sees awful realization. He tries to return it with a gentle expression of his own.

“I followed him, Ben. I went to the one place in the world he could possibly be in search of answers - of him.” And Jack’s found neither so far. “I’m-I’m sorry I gave you the impression that I just ended up here on a whim, but-”

“No, no! Jack, it’s okay,” Ben says, and Jack doesn’t deserve the heartfelt look he’s giving him at all. “This whole time, you-you’ve been looking for him, _alone._ I-I mean, that’s what you’re always doing at the library, right? And… and did you go to the _morgue?”_ He asks, sounding physically pained.

“I… I had to check when that body showed up,” Jack whispers. He’s not even sure if the mic caught that, but he can’t force his voice any louder. “It wasn’t, thank god, but… I just had to know.”

“How did _I_ not know?” Ben asks, apparently to himself. “How could I have missed this?”

“I didn’t tell you, so you _couldn’t_ have known,” Jack retorts before Ben can be harder on himself. Ben _had_ asked a few times, at the library, but Jack had always blown him off. He’s spent the whole time being focused on his work, focused on getting answers without risking others, focused on _getting him back._ Expanding that focus to include others that might not even be of help wasn’t the original plan. But… sometimes plans need to be changed, as you gain more information. More allies.

“Well, now we _do_ know!” Archie says cheerily, breaking the somber mood. “So now you’re gonna have to give us all the deets so we can get on with huntin’ down your hubby.”

“... Fiancé,” Jack corrects, partly because he finally can, but mostly because he has no idea where he’d even start explaining the ‘deets’. Involving people at all is a risk, but where’s the balance between enough information to be of help and too much that could put them at risk? Maybe a physical description of Sammy on the off chance he’s even been seen on this plane of existence? Or maybe a recording of his voice? Just in case he… manages to make any phone calls.

He can almost hear Archie’s eye-roll. “Semantics,” He scoffs.

“I appreciate the offer, Archie,” Jack says delicately. “I’ll think about it, but I’m not sure how much more I want to talk about… _that_ tonight.”

“Oh, very well,” Archie sighs. But, just like that, he marches on. “Regardless, though, you’ve gotta be stressed out of your damn _mind!_ You’re gonna wrinkle that pretty little face of yours if you don’t do some self-care.” Jack blushes, again. Leave it to Archie to always be shameless.

“So, out of the goodness of my heart,” He continues, sounding dramatically put-upon. Jack can just picture him placing a hand lightly against his chest. “You can drop by at any time and I’ll allow you to play with the puppies. No charge, special deal just for you.”

“Now, Archie, we _just_ talked about how I’m a promised man,” Jack teases, already feeling a little better despite himself.

“I already told ya, I won’t be orderin’!” Archie huffs.

“Then I’ll keep it in mind,” Jack promises. They exchange goodbyes and Archie hangs up, leaving them back to their own devices.

Ben’s trying not to laugh. Jack just rolls his eyes, though he can’t fight his smile. But then Ben just has to jinx them by saying “That actually went pretty well!”

“I… guess we can take our chances with another,” Jack decides, mentally bracing himself for the cosmic forces to turn on him again. He picks another even number, hoping against hope that’ll somehow mitigate it. “Line 8, how are you tonight?”

“I was a lot _better_ before you started broadcasting your _personal lifestyle_ all over the radio!” Cynthia snaps, because the universe always has and always will hate him.

Thankfully, Ben jumps to his defense. “Really, Cynthia? I had hoped you’d be above spewing hate,” He says, although, personally, Jack would’ve put her near the top of the list just from the few times they’ve spoken.

“I don’t _hate_ him! I would _never_ be ugly like that. Just who do you take me for? _Helen Baker?”_

“Criticizing your lemon square recipe isn’t exactly comparable,” Ben replies. Noticing Jack’s questioning look, he hastily explains. “My mom still goes to the PTA meetings to, like, socialize and stuff. There’s _lots_ of drama, apparently.”

“Well _I_ have kids that are actually young enough to still attend school!” Cynthia cuts in. “Which they get up quite early for! What am I supposed to do if they hear your _damn talk_ during breakfast, huh?”

“I’ve said _nothing_ indecent,” Jack says, fighting with himself to stay level. He’s heard, and will in all likelihood continue to hear, worse. This is what being out will be like sometimes. He can take it. He’s more worried about Ben, who’s looking a little sick to the stomach. Quietly, he reaches over and grabs his right hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“That’s not for you to decide!” She says, not making a lick of sense. “What you’re saying - _anything_ you say like that could be putting ideas into their heads! They deserve the chance to grow up without that kind of influence on their lives and be… you know!”

“What? _Normal?”_ Jack bites. “Go on and say it, if that’s what you mean.”

“Boys with girlfriends and men with wives, as it’s intended,” Cynthia sniffs, which is as good as saying it. “You have no business promoting any _fantasies_ that are otherwise!”

“Th-that’s it! Goodbye, Cynthia,” Ben says, pressing the dump button with finality. Jack honestly hopes it makes him feel a bit better, seeing as how just about everything else is out of their control right now. He gives Ben’s hand one more squeeze before letting go, so he can go back to hovering over his two favorite buttons.

Jack sighs and runs a hand through his hair, briefly knocking his headphones askew before righting them again. He’s sure that Cynthia’s not the only one feeling this way, even if she ends up being the most vocal among them. He might as well address the issue now.

“I won’t talk much about my _‘personal lifestyle’_ on air if it bothers a lot of people,” Jack says, then pauses because Ben looks like he wants to protest. As much as he appreciates it, he holds up a hand to keep him quiet. Jack may not always be the best talker, but… he’s ready for this. He knows what he wants to say.

“But, honestly - and I really hate to break this to you - but unless we find out that Merv gives a crap, you’ll be listening to a gay man co-hosting this radio show.” Two not-straight men, to be specific, but all the focus is on Jack right now and he’s sure as hell keeping it that way.

God, saying every word of that sentence doesn’t feel real. This _night_ doesn’t feel real. But he’s done with rolling over for others. He wonders if Sammy would be proud, if he could hear this, or if he would be panicking about a hundred times more than Jack. Maybe both.

“I’m sorry if it bothers you,” Jack continues, even though he’s not sorry about that at all, “But I’m here, just trying to live my life - the goal of which, right now, is to find the man who completes it. So it may come up once or twice. I won’t apologize for that, because he deserves a free and happy life as much as anyone. And if I can do anything, _anything_ to make that happen, on or off the air, I will.”

More emotions than Jack can name are running through him right now - things like a little regret and anguish and a lot of sorrow and longing and brokenness - but above all, there’s _anger._ He pours it all into his next words, hoping that he can force a mere fraction of what he feels to resonate through the airwaves just so that those listening might understand.

“You can always turn the dial and ignore me and my problems and go back to your life at any time you _damn well please._ And while you and I are sitting here, safe and sound - he is _trapped._ And he is _suffering._ And until I can get him out, until I bring him back to me and he is safe in my arms and I am _whole_ again, you will just have to deal with what’s left of me being here. I sincerely hope that my existence won’t be too much of an inconvenience to you.”

Jack sits back, eyes burning and heartbeat thundering and everything within him still overflowing. It’s still all _too much._ He might be shaking. But he’s not going to cry, not right now, not on air and not in front of Ben. He will not let them hear him break now, or ever, if he can help it.

The only way he can describe the look Ben’s giving him is one full of awe. “Woah,” He murmurs, just loud enough for the mic to pick up. Jack can tell that there are a hundred things he wants to say to him right now, but can’t. He does his best to give Ben a tired smile, but he knows it’s not good enough.

“You know, I think that commercial might do us some good right now,” Ben says after a moment, sounding a little shaken himself. He hits the button for the queue, then does one further and wipes the board free of calls.

Jack is already taking off his headphones. “I-I need some air,” He says, hating how his voice cracks a little. Ben just nods, still giving him that look of wonderment. “I’ll be right back,” Jack promises, then ducks out into the hall and fast-walks out the door.

Outside, he leans against the station’s old wood and takes a couple deep breaths of cool mountain air. In four, hold two, out five.

He looks up at all the stars he can see from up on top of the mountain, feeling small and wondering if what he just did really was the right thing. But since he already made the worst choice of his life all those months ago, everything else seems so much smaller, too.

********

It’s a long… _long_ night.

Ben tries to argue that he can do the rest of the show on his own, but Jack refuses to let him hang out to dry. He can imagine how Ben’s feeling right now, stuck acting like his only personal stake in this is his friendship with Jack when the words hurt him just as much. Ben may have been the one to bring it up, but Jack’s still the one that dropped the bomb. The least he can do is help do damage control on another mess he’s made.

Together, they field calls and comments that range from supportive to “go to hell”, including a few that are honestly confused and it’s all Jack can do to not delve into ‘Gender and Sexuality 101’. For the most part, they try very, very hard to keep things on topic and stick to the schedule, which is sort of their last line of defense in controlling this mess. It mostly works, but both the dump and the censor buttons still get quite the workout.

Jack gets it, a little, because he’s only been here for just over two months and he might as well still be a stranger to all these people. He’s now making his problems theirs, too, when this town already has enough to deal with. But he can’t take it back and can’t afford to shoulder any more regret than he already carries. He just has to stand by what he said and trust Ben to stand with him.

Troy does call them back, like he promised. He’s nothing but good, gentle, and kind, just like he always is.

“You know I’ve got your back, buddy. You love who you love, and there ain’t no shame in that. We’ll find your Sammy, even if whatever snatched him up has got more hidey holes than a mama chipmunk!”

“You always have a way with words, Troy,” Jack says, finding himself smiling and relaxing for the first time in at least half an hour.

“You got friends here, Jack,” Troy tells him, so tenderly it almost hurts. “Don’t forget that, and don’t you _ever_ discount it.”

By the time they get to Emily’s segment, things seem to have died down for the night. At the very least, they don’t have to work to get the attention off Jack, because Emily’s so bright and engaging all on her own. She sits in the guest chair between them with a stack of books a foot high in front of her on the table, even though this is a radio show, because she likes being able to hold each pick as she talks about it and read her favorite quotes directly from the bookmarked pages.

No one is more enthralled than Ben, of course. He still stumbles over his words when Emily addresses or even smiles at him, even though they’ve talked more than a few times since Ben frequently tags along with him to the library. Jack holds back on the teasing because, at least tonight, he’s gonna let Ben be happy and make a fool of himself as much as he wants. The air between the three of them is easy and light and, overall, it’s a good note to end the show on.

Emily doesn’t bring _it_ up, not once, but she does keep sending Jack glances that he finds hard to read. It’s far from hostile, but it almost seems like… pity, if he has to guess, but that may just be his less-than-stellar mood coloring his thoughts. He still hasn’t figured it out by the time she leaves, but then he’s focused on bringing Ben back down to earth and closing out the show.

All in all, it’s not the worst night it could’ve been. That night may come tomorrow, or maybe next Monday after the fire and brimstone services have concluded, or any night between or after that. But Jack is still exhausted from it, and the odd mixture of dread and relief from his confession has still yet to settle in his stomach.

As soon as the studio door closes behind them, Ben sweeps him into another hug. Jack returns it without hesitation because he knows Ben needs it, too.

“I’m sorry-” Jack starts, not knowing how he’s supposed to finish.

“God, Jack, no! Don’t you dare be sorry,” Ben retorts, squeezing him tighter. Jack does the same in response, but that has the effect of making Ben fail and hit him gently on the arm. “Ow, Jack! I need- I need _air!”_

Jack chuckles and lets him go. Ben takes a step back and a dramatic deep breath, rubbing his sides as if to massage the pain away. “I think you bruised my ribs, you meathead,” He grumbles.

“Can I be sorry for that?” Jack jokes weakly. It’s enough to get them to share a small smile.

“Seriously, though! I… I-I know what it’s like, to be… scared,” Ben says, suddenly looking anywhere but at Jack. The sight makes something in Jack ache from the familiarity of it. “I mean. _Obviously._ Like, I… I could _never_ do what you just did. Not in a million years. And I know that was kind of my fault, for yelling at you about-about fucking _trust_ and you still said it just to shut me up and I just-”

 _“Ben,”_ Jack stops him, because he can’t stand to hear him tear himself up more. “It’s okay, really.” Ben doesn’t look like he believes him, so he goes on. “I was going to come out to everyone anyways. The plan was to do it more gradually and start out with my friends, sure, but all you did was speed up the process. I’ve never tried to do anything halfway before, so I should’ve known it wouldn’t work out.”

That gets a little half-smile out of Ben. “I guess that’s fair,” He allows, but now he’s staring at his shoes. “Still kinda crappy of me, though, pointing fingers and all that. Troy would’ve told me to just be patient with you.”

“Troy’s usually good with advice. But I didn’t realize it was bothering you so much,” Jack says honestly. Since… everything, he has trouble paying attention to _himself_ sometimes, let alone others. It’s always just… Sammy, before he goes to sleep and as soon as he wakes up and all day while jotting down notes. But Ben’s here now, and apparently he’s not going away.

Jack still feels like he needs to bestow some kind of elder gay wisdom on the kid. He doesn’t want this to feel like one of their dumb competitions, doesn’t want to make this about who’s prouder. Because _that_ is dumb, and Ben doesn’t need to be feeling any kind of guilt.

“Since… since Sammy’s been gone, that secret has felt less important to keep, believe it or not. But that’s _me_ and _my_ experience,” He says and puts his hand on Ben’s shoulder, even though it feels corny, because Ben’s still not looking at him and Jack needs him to _get this._ It works and he looks up at Jack, eyes all big and - fuck, Jack has no idea what he’s doing but he’s gotta do this right. Sammy’s always been much better at pep-talks, even if not on this subject in particular. He wishes for the hundredth time he knew how he does it. God, _Ron_ would probably be better than this. But for whatever reason, Jack’s word is the one that carries weight.

He spends a moment fishing for words, then takes his best shot. “You told me that you’re comfortable how you are now, only being out to those who matter, and that’s _fine._ Seriously, it’s awesome that you love yourself and have people that love you for you.” Jack isn’t the one who grew up here, he has no roots in King Falls, and just from what he’s heard and seen tonight there’d be a lot more for Ben to deal with. “It’s all on you when or if you go any further, but honestly I think you should just stay at the place you feel good at right now. And don’t feel bad about me getting all the heat - _that’s_ on me, and I’ve already decided that I can take it. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, sure, but it’s either that or just stay out of the kitchen.”

Ben just keeps staring at him for a moment, but the look of insecurity slowly fades into one of confusion. “That… that last part made absolutely no sense,” He says, sounding like he’s trying not to laugh. “But I think I get what you’re saying. Uh… thanks,” He adds, giving him a small but honest smile. Jack feels lighter, seeing it. He gives Ben’s shoulder a quick squeeze before letting go.

“Maybe we should skip Rose’s today,” Jack suggests. He doubts he’d be refused service or anything, but facing the public right now feels like a gamble that he’s not willing to take right at the moment.

“Yeah, that’s probably smart,” Ben agrees. And- there, that’s his favorite Ben Arnold look, all bright and fiery again. “But if anyone’s tried to take over our booth next time we go, I’m gonna-”

“You’re gonna what? Start a food fight?” Jack teases. 

“What?! No!” Ben honestly looks affronted at the suggestion. “That’d be a total waste of perfectly good pancake puppies! Plus, Rose would make us clean it all up.”

“ _‘Us’?_ Why would I get the blame for something you started?” Jack asks, though he knows that he’d help out regardless.

“Because we’re a packaged deal,” Ben says, like it’s obvious. “You’re my best friend, so you’ve gotta be there and back me up, even when I do stupid shit.”

Jack hears ‘best friend’ and it feels bigger than it should. He remembers his own words, about how the two of them are almost never serious, and thinks that this night has been more than heavy enough. Some things they need to talk through, others they can just quietly accept.

“Then that goes for you, too,” Jack replies, giving Ben a light jab in the side with his elbow. “Because God knows I do plenty of stupid shit myself.”

“Hey, you already bruised those enough!” Ben whines, rubbing his side again, but he’s losing the fight to keep from smiling.

“Would some shitty station coffee make you feel better?” Jack asks. He dodges Ben’s attempted hit in retaliation, laughing.

“No, but I guess it’ll do for now,” Ben sighs. But then he’s laughing, too, and Jack knows they’ll be okay.

They keep up the shoving and bickering all the way to the break room, but when they open the door they’re surprised to find it not as empty as they expected.

Emily’s there, sitting on the couch and with her books neatly stacked on the coffee table in front of her. She’s spread the throw blanket over the cushions and pillows - a good call, based on Ben’s warnings about what Chet gets up to in here sometimes. She’s also holding a mug with the station logo, and Jack can smell the coffee in the air from where she’s already made a fresh pot.

Jack has to catch Ben by the arm when he literally stumbles over his feet on his way into the room. “E-Emily!” Ben says, not even acknowledging the save. “Wha-what are you still doing here? Not-not that we _don’t_ want you here, of course, but-”

“We weren’t expecting you to stay after your segment,” Jack finishes for him, because that sentence was going to wander for another fifteen seconds if he didn’t. Ben seems to finally realize Jack’s still holding onto him for balance and quickly shakes him off, then stands upright like that didn’t happen at all.

“I-I know,” Emily says, carefully setting the mug down on the table. “I just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay, Jack. I didn’t want to bring it up on air again but… I mean, I heard what happened and what some people were saying, so I felt like I should ask.”

God, she’s so sweet. Ben better not mess it up with her.

“I’m… pretty tired, honestly, but I’m okay,” He says, but Emily still looks skeptical and… worried. _That’s_ the expression Jack had trouble pinpointing. She’s worried. For him. That’s… something.

“Seriously, I’m fine,” He insists. “It’s… it actually feels pretty good to finally get to talk about him,” He adds, and as soon as he says it he can feel how true it really is.

The guilt and the pain and the heartache are all still there, squirming and clawing and eating him from the inside out, but right now it’s all a bit… less. He hasn’t said Sammy’s name outside of an argument with his sister in _months,_ and now he can say it whenever he wants, and everyone will know without a doubt that it’s not just some random guy or a friend he’s talking about. It’s _his Sammy,_ his fiancé, his missing half that was torn from this world. And now he doesn’t need to hide any of that.

He doesn’t know when he started smiling, but now Emily and Ben are giving him smiles, too, and suddenly it’s a little easier to breathe.

“You’re telling us _everything_ about him, man,” Ben says. “He’s gotta be something special to put that dopey ass look on your face.”

“Yes, please!” Emily agrees, but then hesitates. “If you’re okay with that, of course. It’s alright if it’s hard or you’re too tired right now.”

Jack’s shaking his head before she even finishes speaking, though he knows he must be bright red now. “No, it’s fine! Sammy’s probably my favorite subject to talk about, honestly,” He says. That gets Emily to relax again. “Just let me grab a mug and I’ll answer just about anything you want to know.”

“I got it!” Ben volunteers. He gets two steps toward the pot then stops and glances over to Emily. “Oh, did you- do you want a refill?”

“No, I’m fine!”

“You sure? I mean, I know it’s kind of crap, but Jack got a really good creamer that we hide in the back of the fridge and it actually makes it decent. In-in case you didn’t see it the first time, I mean.”

“Oh! Well, I guess I could try that…”

“Great!”

“Thanks, Benny.”

“N-no problem.”

Ben walks over and takes her cup, and by some miracle doesn’t spill it on her or the books. Jack passes him on his way to the couch, taking the middle seat when Emily scoots over to the right and offers.

“It’s the same brand we always kept at home,” Jack explains, the ‘we’ ringing nicely in his ears. “That’s your first fun fact about Sammy - he’s a _total_ coffee snob,” He says, and it’s such a little thing but it feels important for them to know.

Right now, to them, Sammy’s just a name attached to Jack. To others before them, Sammy had just been an asshole of a radio personality. But now Jack is able to, _invited_ to, even, talk about the Sammy he sees and knows and loves. And that… that can start with the little things, the kind you only learn by watching, the kind that Jack committed himself to spending a lifetime learning. He’s more than happy to share what he knows.

“Really?” Emily laughs.

“Yep,” Jack says with a fond smile, and then the words keep flowing like a dam burst. “First thing he bought once we had enough spending money was a quality french press, and before that it was all sugary Starbucks drinks every morning. When he got up early enough, at least. He’s a night owl to the bone, not to mention chronically late.”

“Wow, seriously? But you’re always, like, at least a half hour early to everything,” Ben says from across the room. He then walks over balancing three mugs in his hands, two with the King Falls AM logo and one that’s purple with a cartoonish ghost doodled on the side. He hands the station ones to him and Emily and keeps the ghost one for himself as he takes a seat to Jack’s left. Jack’s not sure if it’s better or worse for him to be seated between them. 

“Yeah, that’s always been a problem. Sometimes I’ve had to physically pick him up out of bed, the lazybones,” Jack says, not without affection.

“Considering you can definitely bench me, I believe it,” Ben says solemnly.

Emily takes a sip of her new-and-improved coffee and makes a pleased noise. “Well, he seems to have pretty good taste. But what does he look like?”

“Let me guess - ‘tall, dark, and handsome’?” Ben quips.

“You’ve definitely got tall right,” Jack says, reaching into his bag to get his phone. “He’s an absolute beanpole. Ah, here.” He navigates to the right album and pulls up one of the relatively recent pictures, a selfie Jack had annoyed him into posing for because the light was good. True to form, Sammy looks half awake and has a Starbucks drink piled high with whipped cream in one hand and he’s giving Jack bunny ears with the other. And then, of course, there’s the-

“Is that a _manbun?!”_ Ben blurts, actually swiping the phone from Jack’s hand to get a better look.

Before he even knows what he’s doing, Jack jumps and snatches it back, then clutches it tight against his chest. Both of them give him startled looks, but Jack’s too busy trying to calm his racing heart to pay attention.

~~_What if he calls what if he calls what if **she** calls what if **it** calls-_ ~~

“S-sorry,” Jack says after a moment of counting his breaths. Ben has a hand hovering over his arm, though he seems hesitant to actually touch. “Just- don’t do that, please.” They both nod slowly, Ben lowering his arm back down, and Jack clears his throat and tilts the screen to show the picture again. Neither of them comments on his white-knuckled grip.

“But, um- yeah. Yeah, that’s-that’s his ridiculous hair,” He says, trying to pick up the easy conversation they had had going. They were talking about happy things - about Sammy. He can talk about Sammy, and what it was like before… before everything went to hell.

“It-it was short when I met him in college, but after a couple years he started growing it out. It’s past his shoulders now and… _really_ soft.” Thinking about that - about running his fingers through it, smelling it when he’s fresh from the shower, and all the hair ties he’d find around the house - that helps him calm down more than anything. He misses it all, achingly so, but that pain isn’t going away. He just lets himself be comforted right now.

“He’s really cute,” Emily decides, giving Jack a small smile. “So, you guys met in college?” She prompts gently.

“When was that? Back in the 90s?” Ben asks and Jack has half a mind to shove him off the couch for that. He probably would, if they weren’t holding open drinks right now.

“We’re not _that_ old,” Jack says, rolling his eyes. But his annoyance fizzles out as he takes a drive down memory lane. His eyes trace over the picture of Sammy’s face, imposing a mental image of the gangly young adult he first met over the sharper planes of the man he knows now. “But, yeah, we met in a journalism class, and we were best friends in no time. It took my sister a little longer to warm up to him - he’s always trying to take care of people, and that’s the _last_ thing that she wants from anyone. Not to mention she thinks he’s just a dumbass.”

 _“Is_ he a dumbass?” Ben asks, smiling like he already knows how Jack will answer.

“Oh, definitely,” Jack says easily. He shakes himself out of his reverie and puts his phone away again as he keeps talking. “But, I mean, he’s _my_ dumbass, so…”

“God, how do you make even _that_ sound gooey?” Ben complains.

“I think it’s sweet,” Emily says. “I mean… we can really hear it, you know?”

Jack looks at her questioningly. “Hear…?”

“How much you love him,” She says simply, but sincerely. “And how much you miss him.”

He can’t look at her after she says that. He ends up staring into the soft brown of his drink, the way he only has it here because it’s the only time of his day where he slows down enough to care.

“I do,” He whispers. _‘But that wasn’t enough, and that may not be enough’_ He doesn’t add. He loves Sammy, but that didn’t stop Jack from turning him away. He misses Sammy, but Jack’s the reason he’s lost at all. Jack’s here, and Sammy’s there, and his feelings and intentions back then and right now are meaningless until he can do something real with them.

But tonight is supposed to be a step toward that. He’s done something he and Sammy had always dreamed of being brave enough to do. He can have more eyes and ears now, maybe even warn potential victims before it’s too late. He barely knows what he’s getting into, or how big it could end up being, but at least he won’t be completely alone now. He doesn’t trust himself to handle it alone, but he also doesn’t want to make the same mistakes with new people.

He’ll be careful, this time. He can’t afford to be anything less.

On one side of him, Ben puts a hand on his shoulder. On the other, Emily rests her hand on his arm. They’re warm and present and, for better or worse, Jack is too. He has to make that count.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go!!! When I said “give him time” I’m guessing you didn’t think I meant “until next chapter".
> 
> Jack coming out really early on was very literally the first idea Night and I had for this AU so I’m super glad to finally get there. I really meant it when I said that Jack’s story is going to be a different one than Sammy’s!
> 
> That being said - no, this isn’t the AU’s equivalent of Ep 68. That would just be disappointing. Some of it was definitely inspired by that, but the real angst is just beginning. Jack still hasn’t told them everything, or anything much honestly, and still has a lot of problems both internal and external to work through. But… at least there’s one less thing to worry about, right?
> 
> This will change a lot of things, obviously, but I’m really excited about the opportunities it opens up. As always, thank you for reading!! Until next time <3
> 
>  **UPDATE 5/7/19:** I nor this story is dead! Part 1 of Ch 6 is done as of today!! It's 7k!!! Soon...

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter is short, but the others will be longer.
> 
> Kudos, comments, and constructive critiques are very much appreciated!
> 
> You can find me on my podcast sideblog on tumblr [@podcastsmakemecry.](https://podcastsmakemecry.tumblr.com/)


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